


Conversations 2

by aussieokie



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 83,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4677485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussieokie/pseuds/aussieokie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are conversations between Ressler and Keen taken from the Season 2 episodes. They will be various one-shots and scene expansions, with things I'd like to imagine happened in the show. They will be Keenler and from Ressler's POV - often with lots of Ressler angst! (Originally written and posted during Season 2, I only just decided to put them up here too!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feelings

_So we FINALLY got Season 2 on the air after a very LONG summer without our show! So here we go with my first 'Conversation' from Season 2, Episode One "Lord Baltimore". And my apologies for including the first part word for word from the show. I just wanted to set the scene and get back in the saddle of writing "Conversations Season 2" (after writing "Hard Rain" the past two months) and start off with Ressler getting ticked off – which is always such a good look for him!_

_This series will be a little different to Conversations Season 1, (which were separate one-shots from each episode). In these Season 2 conversations, I am going to (try!) to have a more linear approach. A continuing story that weaves in and out of what we see on the show, and each chapter refers back to previous additions or edits I have made._

_And as usual, these are mainly from Ressler's POV, and you see his thoughts in italics :-)_

* * *

Ressler's hackles rose as soon as he saw Dr Friedman enter their shared office.  _So much for a successful end to our day. I am NOT talking to her._

The woman focused her attention on the only agent she had yet to talk to at this site. She had read Ressler's file and saw what had transpired with the death of his fiancé and his subsequent actions. The stress of that, coupled with the death of his coworker and near death of his Assistant Director, made it obvious this man needed counseling. Of all the staff at this site, this agent was the one she deemed needed the most help. He couldn't ignore this any longer. She stood by Liz, looking over the desks to Ressler.

"Congratulations. I heard you captured the man you were after. I thought maybe now we could go over a couple of things." She heard Ressler groan, but continued. "Maybe take stock."

Ressler ignored the 'I told you so' look Keen was giving him, as she sat almost smugly at her desk looking across at him.

The fact that Ressler was avoiding this showed Liz he needed it as much, if not more, than any of them. And as his partner – and his friend – Liz wanted him to talk to Dr Friedman. Watching him now, she saw the change come over her partner. Gone was the grinning 'I'll buy that agent a beer' guy that had been there a minute before. Mr 'I-do-things-my-way' was back, and true to form he was already up and about to leave, ignoring the two women looking pointedly at him.

"Agent Ressler." Dr Friedman said, changing her tone with the agent now as he left the office.

Ressler ignored her, his politeness with the doctor throughout the day gone now. Dr Friedman exited through the door behind Liz, and cut Ressler off as he entered the war room, rapidly losing her patience with the agent.

Ressler tried to walk by her, acutely aware of Keen watching from their office. He ignored Liz, knowing if he looked into her eyes, she'd give him 'the look' and he always had a hard time ignoring that.

"I will recommend you for suspension." The doctor told him sternly, effectively blocking Ressler from walking by her now.

He stopped, and faced her down. "Look, I don't mean to be a prick here, but I'm not sure what you think you're going to fix." His voice was even, but Liz could hear the control behind it.

"I'm not sure either, until we talk." Dr Friedman told him, not giving an inch.

Ressler finally lost his cool. He inhaled sharply. "About what? Those agents who died today? About the fact that we lost a woman that we were supposed to protect?"

The memory of begging Meera to live as their tears dripped into her blood pool came flooding back. "How do I feel about that?" He raised his voice at the woman now, leaning into her face. "I feel like CRAP."

Behind him, Liz held her breath. No, don't do this Ress, not with the shrink, she begged him inwardly. Ressler had his back to her, but she didn't need to see his face. His stance, the way he was slightly leaning into Dr Friedman, and the tension in his shoulders told her everything she needed to know. As angry as he may be appearing to the doctor, she knew he was also holding himself back, not giving in by showing the woman the entire story of how he really felt. But he needed to back down completely before he did get suspended.

Ressler almost left Dr Friedman then but continued, trying to make her understand where he was coming from. "But I know the good we do here, why it matters. And am I worried that someday it's not gonna be enough? Yeah."

He glared at her, emphasizing his point. "And when that day comes, you'll be the first to know." He took one more look at the doctor, and then strode away, feeling Liz's eyes boring into his back. Agents in the room who had witnessed the exchange awkwardly stepped aside, suddenly busy with other things as he walked briskly by them.

Aram had been sitting front and centre, and got the whole show right in front of his desk. He also held his breath as he saw Ressler walk away, and then glanced over at Meera's empty desk. It sat vacant in the middle of the bullpen, a constant reminder that one of their team would never again occupy that chair. That she would never again fill the room with her British accent, and her cutting wit. Not one of them had sat at that desk since. That's probably not healthy, he was thinking, as Liz caught his eye, walking determinedly in the direction Agent Ressler had gone.

Ressler's stomach churned as he strode down the hallway. He momentarily eyed the elevator, but didn't feel like going up to the surface in the afternoon sun. Instead, he turned and headed down toward the interrogation rooms.  _Rather appropriate, since Friedman wants to 'interrogate me'._ No one was around, thankfully. He headed for the small meeting room at the end of the hallway, past the interrogation rooms. It was dark, lit only from the lights in the hallway as he slipped inside, not wanting to turn the light on.

Leaning heavily against the wall, he closed his eyes and sucked in a lungful of air.  _I shouldn't have left your side, Meera. I never should have split us up…_

He heard footsteps clipping down the hallway. He knew those footsteps. Of course Liz would follow him. As Liz entered the room she fumbled on the wall looking for the light switch, but was stopped with Ressler's voice from the darkness.

"Don't."

 _The dark feels ...safe… Oh, hell, I don't know, I'm tired of feelings._ There was something right about being in the dark though.  _The nightclub had been dark… she died in that dark passageway_ …

She dropped her hand from the wall, and sat down at one of the chairs now. "Why don't you sit down here?" She asked him quietly.

He remained standing and all she heard was him sighing heavily in the dark. As her eyes adjusted to the dark room she saw him leaning against the wall, hands on hips with his teeth clenched in that oh-so-familiar look her partner had perfected. It had been a while since she'd seen that though. He had been far more relaxed around her of late. Cracking a grin at things that wouldn't have even have raised that signature half smile of his a year ago.

In fact, their roles had almost reversed. She had become the uptight, paranoid one, and he had become more open. That is, until you mentioned Meera Malik's death. Then he became as tight lipped as the agent formerly known as Ressler circa 2013, the frowning, stuffed shirt that held everything deep inside him.

"Tell me why you really don't want to talk to her." Liz asked him, getting right to the point. She was watching him and saw him turn and look at her, his eyes catching the light from the hallway.

"You know why."

"Humor me. Tell me why." She prompted, needing him to start talking about this. In the 2 months since they had their hands shoved around Meera's throat, her warm blood spilling all over them, she had tried to discuss it with him, but he would always clam up. He would then either change the subject or say nothing until she was forced to change the subject. How ironic that he had grinned at her this morning telling her not to change the subject when she'd mentioned Dr Friedman.

"What possible good can come of reliving it?" he asked her, standing up from the wall now and shoving his hands in his pockets, his breathing more even now.

"Because we get it out in the open so it doesn't stay trapped inside." She told him, still sitting, pulling out the chair beside her to encourage him to sit down too.

He didn't take the chair and continued to stand where he was. "I don't need to talk to anyone about this. It happened. It's done."

"I'm not 'anyone', Ress. We were both there when she died." She reminded him gently.

He dropped his head, looking down in front of him. "I know that Liz. But I was the one who sent her to look downstairs while I went upstairs. I was the one who should have…" He stopped, swallowed hard and took a step toward the door.

_To hell with this. I'm done talking about it._

She stood up quickly to block the doorway and he stopped short, looking into her eyes. The image of a caged lion ready to pounce came to her as she looked at his stance before her. This was the most he had said in the entire two months, and for his sake she needed him to continue.

"You should have what?" she prompted him.

_Stopped her getting her damn throat cut, Keen!_

She could hear his breathing catching in the dark, his voice a little louder now. "Protected her. I should have protected her!"

"Ress, you didn't know we were all in danger when you went to the club. None of us knew that until we got the call from Red." She looked up at him, seeing his eyes darting, the memories of the day consuming him. "You followed proper proced…"

"Yeah, and 'proper procedure' got her killed Keen! Her blood was all over the road - floor. That shouldn't have happened!" He spun away from her and leaned against the wall again.

_Dammit!_

He'd corrected himself, but she'd heard it. This wasn't only about Meera.

"Ress, this is hard for all of us. That's why the Bureau assigned Dr Friedman. There is no shame in talking about…"

"I am not discussing this any more." He interrupted again, and tried to move past her but she stood her ground, forcing him to stop. He backed up, then resumed his pacing around the small room.

_I should have just gone up the damn elevator and gone home!_

She watched him pacing and stepped toward him. "This morning you told me that you talk to me all the time. And you're right, you do. But I can only do so much. And it's not because I'm not 'qualified' to help you. It's because…" she inhaled sharply now, her mind back in the dark nightclub, with warm blood pouring over her hands. "It's because I miss her too. I was there too, right beside you Ress, holding her throat together as we – you and I – tried to save her."

"But we didn't save her Liz. They - she died."  _Damn, stop doing that!_ He leaned his head back on the wall now, sighing heavily.

"I know Ress. They both died and you were right there with the two of them. That's a lot for anyone to deal with. There is no shame in talking to a professional about problems you're having with this." She said gently.

"That woman out there," He leaned forward from the wall, and pointed back toward the war room, "that woman didn't even know Meera. Never met her. Never met… Audrey. How in the world can she have anything to say on this that would benefit me?" He looked across at her now, his eyes glistening more than earlier.

"That's precisely why she's able to discuss this with us. It's because she didn't know Meera… or Audrey… that she is able to step back and look at this from the outside looking in. We're too close Ress. We look at this with emotion, and that's unavoidable. She looks at it with a clinical eye, and can see areas where we may need… help."

 _The only help I need is in my bathroom cabinet._ He shook that thought away.

He moved toward her now, toward the door again. "I'm not talking about this anymore, Liz. I don't need this. And if that's wrong, then fine. But this is my way of dealing with it."

"You need to remember that we don't have Cooper here to go into bat for us Ress… I doubt Martin will step up to the plate to bail you out if Dr Friedman does have them suspend you." She said, trying to reason with him, seeing him looking toward the exit again.

_Right now, I just need to get out of here._

He moved toward her again as she continued to block his path. He looked down at her, clenched his teeth and looked briefly away, then back at her.

"I really am done, Liz. Discussion over."

"I know. Believe me, even in this almost dark room, I can still read you like a book." She moved her hand to him and gently touched his sleeve, feeling the tension in his muscles underneath her hand. "But Ress, I want you to promise me something. I need your word that you will come to me if things get... too difficult for you. Promise me." She searched his eyes, pleading with him.

His jaw set, he met her eyes silently for a moment longer, then brushed past her to exit the room.

She let him go, standing there looking down at the table in the dark. He hadn't promised. Hadn't answered her at all, which in itself wasn't unusual for Ressler. But she had needed his word that he wouldn't keep it all inside if things reached breaking point for him... again. Yes, he had opened up to her somewhat, but still had not talked enough about Meera's death. There was far more going on below the surface that he was keeping to himself. And that filled her with apprehension.

His eyes squinting in the light, he walked down the hallway away from her, feeling his head starting to ache. He did not want to go to their office to shut his computer down or do anything else – or talk to anyone. Instead, he fished his keys out of his pocket and stepped into the elevator. He avoided looking toward their office in case Dr Friedman was still standing there waiting for him to return.

_That isn't happening. I am SO done._

Alone in the elevator as it rose to the surface, he looked up and sighed, long and deep.  _Audrey… I've been doing my job. I had hoped no one could tell... But I'm not doing so good sweetie…_

###

Twenty minutes after leaving Liz he entered his apartment. It was still light out but his curtains were drawn, keeping it dark inside. Walking into his living room he turned the lamp on, seeing the soft glow fill the room, just the way he liked it. Throwing his keys on the coffee table, his gaze landed on the bar and reaching for a bottle he poured himself a shot. The scotch slid down his throat and he closed his eyes as the fire filled his belly. After pouring a second drink, he went and sat on his couch looking at the empty, softly lit room around him.

He didn't have photos in his apartment. Audrey had always wanted them to do a photo session, but he was never a fan of that. Have someone shove a camera in his face, telling him to smile here, place his hand there, look here. No thanks. He opened up his phone now though, and found the selfie that Audrey had taken one day. It was a little blurry, because she'd been laughing as she'd taken his phone and snapped the pic and had then handed his phone back to him. It was a work phone, a Bureau phone, but he had never deleted the photo. He looked at it now, at her laughing eyes, at her mouth…her hair…  _  
_

He closed the photo quickly.

_Don't. J_ _ust don't._

Still in his suit, he stood quickly and loosened his tie, suddenly feeling like it was strangling him. The bottle of scotch was still on the bar but he walked by it now, making his way to the bathroom instead. He needed to wash this day off him and try and snap out of this.

He undressed to take a shower, but then leaned on his sink, his mind whirling. As usual, the memories that he kept in check while at work flooded over him as soon as he arrived at his apartment. Memories of women dying in his arms, in front of him, of blood…so much blood. And always, the guilt. That awful, aching guilt, knowing that he was responsible for both of their deaths. Today was no different.  _No, actually, today is worse._

He slowly raised his eyes to the mirror, seeing his reflection staring back at him, almost accusatory.  _I don't even know who you are half the time…_

There would be no sleep tonight, and no quieting of his brain – unless he took the pills again. Reaching for the prescription, he tossed two of them back in his mouth, grimacing at their bitter taste.

_I hate them._

_I need them._

_I hate that I need them._

Things were getting worse, not better. And alone in his apartment was always the hardest time, without work to keep him occupied. He turned the water on and stepped into the shower, feeling the water hitting him. He turned up the heat, but standing under the hot water didn't help. He still felt like crap, just like he'd told Dr Friedman.  _I was honest with her about that._

He hadn't answered Liz's plea earlier, even though he knew what she had needed to hear. Though he had been unable to answer her at the time, now he reinforced the answer to himself.

_Liz, if things ever get too much, I promise to TRY and reach out to you. I can only promise you that._


	2. Late for Work

_So…I don't know how many times I said "OMG!" while watching Episode 2, but it was a LOT! Oh my God (there I go again) this was SUCH an amazing Ressler episode! When we saw him pop the pills at the end of Episode 1, I was stunned (but secretly pleased, because WOW, what a storyline for our suffering agent!) So then I figured in true Blacklist fashion, they'd gloss over it. But no, they didn't. And we are now seeing a pain pill addicted Ressler, who is off his game (yet has developed a wonderfully dry sense of humour!). So then I got really, really intrigued. Okay, we know he was late for work because of the pain pills. But WHAT SPECIFICALLY would have occurred to make him late? And then I thought, "what if...?" and this was the result._

* * *

**Part One - Ally**

Donald Ressler had always been an over achiever. He had been top of his class in every subject in High School and College, graduating Valedictorian. That trend had continued when he was accepted by the FBI, which resulted in him graduating top of the Quantico Class of 2006. It was just natural for him to push himself to study and be the best he could be. He wasn't the least bit concerned with awards or plaques on his wall. That's not why he did it. He needed to push himself to do his best purely to prove it to himself. No matter how hard his instructors may have been on him, he would always push himself further.

That attitude had always held him in good stead. 'Never do anything unless you can do it well' became the mantra he lived by. It's why he was made head of the Reddington Task Force at the age of 30 in charge of agents with far more seniority than him. A coveted position - and he had earned it.

So it came as no surprise to himself that he pushed and pushed himself to get back on his feet (literally) after the Anslo Garrick incursion. After his leg was ripped apart. Torturous sessions of therapy, leaving him sweating and heaving, all in an effort to get the use of his leg back. Because if Donald Ressler was good at one thing – it was pushing his body beyond its limits.

It had started innocently enough. Coming out of surgery to repair his shattered thigh, he felt fine – for about 6 minutes. Then the pain hit and his entire body shook with the trauma that had been inflicted upon his left thigh. In the hospital, it was almost too easy. Push the button every ten minutes and morphine flowed down into his waiting vein. A drawing sensation followed, and within minutes, numbness filled his entire being, dropping the pain in his leg to a much more tolerable level. It enabled him to push to get out of bed before he was ready. And it enabled him to start therapy earlier than his doctors envisaged.

When he came home, still a therapy outpatient, he was armed with enough pain pills to see him through a few weeks. It wasn't morphine - that had been stopped within three days of surgery. These were Oxycontin, a safe alternative, the doctor had told him.

They were prescription drugs.

They were legal.

They were safe.

When Ressler again pushed himself beyond his limits in an effort to return to work, he had a new ally on his side. His brain had a side kick - Oxycontin. His brain, so adept at learning how to be good at everything it studied, couldn't help itself. It learned how to be good at taking pain meds. Take one at a time and the pain was tolerable. Take two at a time and the pain went away. The Oxy allowed him to push himself back to work sooner than he would have without them. He became able to work long hours, and still be able to tolerate the pain on a leg that should have been resting after about 4 hours. They enabled him to return to the job he lived for and needed.

When the prescription ran out, it was a simple fix. One call to the doctor explaining a rough day at work and hurting the leg again, and a new prescription was written. After a month, he tapered off on the pills. After another few weeks he stopped taking them, the physical pain and trauma from his shattered leg having long since abated. The almost full bottle of Oxy sat at the back of his bathroom cabinet, no longer needed. He didn't think about them anymore.

And then Audrey died in his arms.

In the immediate aftermath of her death, his adrenaline took over. In the days following, he struggled more than he ever had in his life. His wife-to-be and child were ripped from his arms. Because he knew, even though he never found the pregnancy test, that she had been pregnant.

His body screamed with a different type of pain. In a way, a pain far worse than he'd suffered with his shattered thigh. Exactly one week after Audrey died, two days after her funeral and after his first day back at work he stood in his bathroom - and his eyes landed on the forgotten bottle of Oxy.

He needed to push through this. He needed to be able to work, because the memory of Audrey was everywhere in the apartment. The pills numbed physical pain. Would they also numb emotional pain? And his wonderful brain that was so adept at studying learned something new.

Yes, they did.

His body that was so used to pushing itself, needed to push again. And so it had become a nightly ritual. Get home from work, take a pill, then shower and settle down for the evening. It seemed the perfect plan. He was able to push himself through the grief with much more control, and continue working his job while keeping his mind focused. The added bonus was they allowed him to actually get a few hours sleep at night.

And then Meera had died in front of him.

And two hours later, Cooper was clinging to life.

New pain surfaced, and new guilt. And his sharp brain that was usually so focused on everything around it was suddenly fooled. Taken down by the very thing it had thought was an ally. If one pill helped, then two had to be better, right? And taking them twice a day had to be better than once a day, right? And at first, that logic panned out. Things became tolerable again. He pushed through it again.

Donald Ressler never even acknowledged he had a problem - until the Bureau assigned a psychologist to talk to them. Keen had been wrong. It wasn't that he thought himself too healthy to talk to Dr Friedman. It wasn't only because he didn't see how talking about death would help him. While he certainly didn't see how that would help, it wasn't the entire reason. It was because Dr Friedman would see right through him.

It was because Dr Friedman would know he had become an addict.

###

**Part Two - Enemy**

It was 10pm, and it had been 14 hours since he'd taken any pills.

Ressler sat in his living room, averting his eyes from the small bottle of Oxy sitting on his coffee table. He'd been home from work for three hours and hadn't even moved from his couch. Driving home, thumping the steering wheel in sheer frustration, and more than a little panic, he had made the decision that he didn't need them anymore. But while he had decided he was through with pain pills, he couldn't seem to get up and do anything else but sit and look at the bottle in front of him.

_I'm not doing it anymore. I'm done._

He hadn't set out to become addicted. He refused to be labeled that going forward. He was stronger than that, and knew how to push through things. He'd been doing it his whole life. And this was no different.

_I refuse to take them any more. Simple. I'm done._

But as he was discovering, it was far from that simple. His body hurt. Seemingly from head to toe, every muscle had begun hurting. His hands were shaking. Quickly clenching his fists to steady them, he looked up at his small TV. He wasn't the slightest bit interested in anything that might be on, but he reached for the remote and turned it on anyway. Anything to distract himself. After three minutes of flipping through channels he turned it off, threw down the remote and stood up. Lacing his fingers through his hair, he stood there, eyes closed and took a shuddering breath.

_To hell with this._

He tore his tie off, and began undoing his shirt buttons with difficulty. His shaking hands were all thumbs and almost in a panic, he ripped the last couple of buttons on his shirt, needing to get it off him. Throwing his clothes in the hamper, he finished undressing and then stepped into his bathroom. Deliberately ignoring his reflection in the mirror, he kept his head turned away. If he looked at himself right now, he knew full well he would not like what he saw.

He stepped into the hot shower, letting the hot water flow down him and seep into his aching body. With his eyes closed and head bowed, he leaned his hands on the wall in front of him as the water poured down him.

It helped.

But only a little.

Steam rose around him, obscuring the glass. Cocooned in his shower, he tried very hard not to think about anything else but the warm water cascading down him, warming his aching muscles. And for a little while, he succeeded at that.

Until a wave of nausea struck him, and when he started dry retching under the hot water his momentary reverie was broken. In its place, his stomach roiled and he clutched it, crouching down on the tiled surface. The hot water no longer felt good. It invaded his space now, heating up his body to a level he suddenly found unbearable. With an effort he rose to his feet, turned the water off and almost fell back down to the tiled shower floor.

_I just need to sit here for a bit…_

The tiles held the warmth from the water as he sat in his shower, clutching his stomach. The good news, he noticed, was that his hands had stopped shaking as much. The bad news, he then realized was that his entire body was starting to shake instead. Which most definitely wasn't helping with his painful muscles. He was getting cold now and rose to his knees then dragged himself up and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a large towel, he wrapped it around himself and then wiped the mirror with his hand.

Bad idea.

_If Reddington was here, he'd tell me 'Donald, you look like hell'._

He dried himself, threw on a clean t-shirt and track pants, then sat on the edge of his bed. When he was sure his stomach had settled down enough to leave the vicinity of the bathroom, he shakily walked back out to his couch.

It was now 11pm. 15 hours without a pill.

And there they were, sitting on the table. The elephant in the room.  _The monkey on my back._  Still shaking, he sat on his couch, drawing his knees up and hugging them now. Dropping his head to knees, he closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the pills.

_How the hell did I end up like this?!_

###

Audrey was reaching down to him, telling him to come to bed. He looked sleepily up at her and smiled. "Hey sweetie, sorry, I guess I fell asleep out here." She reached out and stroked his hair and smiled, then kissed his forehead. She held out her hand to him and he took it, feeling her soft skin beneath his fingers. She half dragged him off the couch and he followed her as she led him to their bed. As they reached the bed, he put his arms around her, embracing her, smelling her as he buried his face in her hair. Lost in her, feeling the warmth of her against him, he smiled and whispered in her ear. "I love you…" and smiled even more as she chuckled, kissing his cheek. He moved to the bed, dropping her in front of him, and reached down to kiss her again…

His head shot up as he woke with a start.

Still on the couch hugging his knees, he was alone in the semi dark room. Audrey was gone, and would never again come and wake him and take him to bed.  _Audrey!_  He closed his eyes, trying desperately to find the dream again. To find Audrey again. But he was awake now and tears began to fall as the last threads of his dream faded. Trembling, he dropped his head again, his tears pooling in his folded arms across his knees.

_I miss you sweetie. I need you!_

As he slowly collected himself, getting his tears under control now, he looked across at the clock. It was 1:20am. Over 17 hours without a pill. Turning his head to the side, he looked at the small bottle through red rimmed eyes as it taunted him from the coffee table.

_I'm not taking you. Forget it._

With an effort, he got off the couch, his muscles screaming at the movement.  _I need SOMETHING though!_  He shakily reached for the bottle of scotch on the bar and poured himself a shot.  _Let's just swap one addiction for another._ Ignoring his inner voice, he quickly gulped it down, and then slammed the shot glass down on the bar. The alcohol stayed on his stomach for about 20 seconds before he felt it coming back up. Lurching to his bathroom, he threw up in the sink, the alcohol burning on its way back up. After rinsing his mouth out, he shakily leaned on his mirror with his eyes closed. The cool glass felt good on his forehead.

He padded out to his kitchen and took out a bottle of water out of the fridge. He took a sip, standing by his kitchen sink to see if it would stay down.  _So far so good._  He took another little sip and it made no attempt to come back up either. Figuring his stomach was going to behave, he made his way back out to his living room and stood in front of the coffee table. The bottle of Oxy was illuminated by a shaft of light peeking through his closed curtain. One perfectly placed shard of light, focused right on the very thing he was trying not to think about.

_They have to go._

He did it so fast he didn't have time to question it. Snatching up the pills, he turned quickly to his kitchen. As he hurled them in the trash, the lid swung for a moment and then stopped, the kitchen silent again.

For a second or two he felt relief. Then fear overtook him. _What did I just do…?_

Trembling harder now, he turned and walked to his bedroom to put as much distance between him and the pills as he could. Turning the light off, he dropped into bed, and forced himself to lay down.  _It's too dark!_  He quickly reached over and fumbled for the switch on the bedside lamp, feeling safer with it on. Feeling less like he was suffocating in the light.

The shakes overtook him now, making the pain level in his muscles reach a new high as his back arched with the pain. Rolling to his side, he curled up and hugged his knees and tried to stop shaking. His muscles rebelled, and a strong cramp gripped his left calf, holding it vicelike as the pain shot through his lower leg.

"no no no no" He struggled out of bed, panting as he did so, begging the pain to stop.

Standing shakily on the floor flexing his calf, he stretched out his foot until the muscle unlocked and swift relief followed. Afraid to try lying down again, he stood there, his body a shaking mass of pain. Dragging a blanket off the bed, he clumsily wrapped it around him, and eased himself down onto his recliner, panting hard.

The pain was intensifying due to the unrelenting shaking. As if to add insult to injury, the very thing that had started off this nightmare spoke up. His left thigh screamed at the onslaught it was enduring. He tried rubbing it, but it only made it worse. Throwing off the blanket, he quickly undressed again, and headed for the shower. Maybe the hot water would help again.

It didn't.

Standing under the hot stream, his body rebelled. The hot water felt intolerable, feeling as if it were tearing his skin from his body. Slamming the water off he stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel, panting in pain.

_Oh God… I can't do this. I can't!_

He hobbled out to the living room, his towel wrapped around him, shaking. Maybe the whiskey would stay down this time and help. Almost spilling the bottle as he poured a shot, he overflowed the small glass, whiskey pouring on his bar. Placing the bottle down, he grabbed the shot glass and swigged it back, feeling it run down his throat. It burned from where he'd thrown up earlier, but it did stay down this time.

Another cramp shot through his calf muscle again as he stood there, and this time he had no way to ease it. He was already standing and try as he might, he couldn't stretch his foot enough. He howled in pain, dropping to the floor and trying desperately to stretch his calf. Tears rolled down his face as he agonizingly turned onto his stomach. Finally managing to get his toes in the right position, he stretched his calf muscle and the cramp let go. He dropped his head to the floor, laying on it now and panting hard. Frustration bordering on sheer panic enveloped him as he thumped the floor with his clenched fist.

_I can't. I can't do it! I will never be able to go to work like this!_

And he knew what he needed to do.

After a few minutes, he was able to stagger to his feet, leaning heavily on the bar, feeling like the world's worst drunk. Straightening, he made his way to the kitchen now aiming straight for the trash can.

Aiming straight for the discarded bottle of pills.

Taking the top off the trash can, they were sitting there between an empty pizza box, a few beer cans and some plastic bags, almost daring him. Almost unable to stand up any more, he reached his shaky hand into the container and retrieved the precious bottle of pills. Standing there in his kitchen shaking uncontrollably, he gripped the bottle in his hands.

Simultaneous shame and relief poured over him.

_Maybe I don't need to take them._

_Oh God. Yes I do!_

It was 2:40am. Almost 19 hours without a pill.

Placing the bottle on the kitchen counter, he washed his hands and wiped down the bottle. His stomach wrenched again in another spasm. He leaned over the kitchen sink expecting to throw up, but then his stomach decided there was nothing in it to expel.

He reached for the pill bottle and placed two tablets in his hand.

He'd had many crossroads in his life. And at each one, he had taken the path he believed was best for him to be on. And it usually panned out right. But ever since Audrey had died, his crossroads in life had not taken the right path. As he looked at the two pills in his shaking hand, he knew what the right path was. Ultimately, he knew the right path was NOT to take them. But his body had been hijacked and was no longer under his control.

His brain that was trying so hard to push through it had been overtaken by an enemy combatant. It couldn't rise above that. It couldn't muster the forces that were required to fight this battle. It needed reinforcements, but none were coming.

And as he leaned on his kitchen sink shaking uncontrollably, he moved the pills toward his mouth, closed his eyes and knowingly took the wrong path.

He popped the pills in his mouth, took a tiny sip of water and swallowed.

They made their way down his throat, and he waited, clinging to the kitchen counter to see if they'd stay down. And as if to prove they were needed, his stomach felt the first effects of the drug it needed so badly and settled, keeping the pills down. He managed to drag himself to his bedroom and fell into bed after discarding the damp towel on the floor. Still shaking and in agony, tears filled his eyes again as he shut them tight, willing the pain pills to start helping his exhausted body.

_Audrey! I'm sorry sweetie! I couldn't do it!_

And imperceptibly he felt a change. A warm tingling feeling ran through his body as the drug dispersed. His muscles began to react one by one as the medication seeped through his body, filling each blood vessel and travelling to his entire system. Within 9 minutes, the edge was being taken off the pain. Within 17 minutes, his shaking slowed. And within 22 minutes, he lay still in bed with his shaking subsided and his muscles silenced.

He looked at the clock. 3:13am. It had been 22 minutes since he'd taken some pills.

He was exhausted. Unable to move, he didn't even think to reach up and set his alarm. At 3:16am unable to stay awake any longer, he fell into an exhausted, drug induced sleep. And at 5:30am when his alarm should have gone off, he slept right on through. His body had fought a battle, but had ultimately lost. It had also won, depending on which side you looked at it. As he slept on, his system stabilized, having received the treatment it had needed.

At 6:28am he opened his eyes, noticed the light level in the room and sprang out of bed. His calf muscles were tender as he stepped onto the floor. All of his muscles had a shadow of pain, still regrouping from the overnight battle, but he could definitely function.

For the third time in 8 hours, he stepped into his shower again, this time quickly and efficiently shaving and cleaning himself up. Stepping out of the shower, he reluctantly looked in the mirror, but was surprised to see he looked almost…normal. A few eye drops took care of the redness in his eyes, and after combing and gelling his hair in place, he took stock again. He'd do. He'd past muster.

He dressed quickly in his bedroom, looked in his full length mirror, and saw Special Agent Donald Ressler standing before him in his suit and tie. Separating what he saw on the outside from what he felt on the inside was his specialty. And once again, the walls were firmly in place around him. With a final look in the mirror, satisfied he could look like an FBI agent and function like one, he walked to the living room. Grabbing his keys, he turned toward the front door.

And then stopped.

Dropping his head, he turned and then looked toward the kitchen. He strode back in, picked up the bottle of Oxy and put it in his pants pocket. For the first time, he left his apartment armed with the bottle of pills. He could no longer risk being anywhere without them, that much had been proven overnight. He exhaled deeply, shook his head, and again wondered how the hell he had ended up like this.

###

Thirty minutes later, he entered the Post Office. Groaning inwardly, he could see from the elevator that the briefing was already underway. Taking a deep breath he tried not to interrupt as he walked up to them. Cooper eyed him mid sentence, Aram looked at him nervously, and Liz's eyes burned into him questioningly.

He was standing among his work colleagues. One of the team. Yet feeling an outsider.

For the first time in his life, Donald Ressler had arrived late for work.


	3. Truth is the Best Defense

_This is another one-shot from Episode 2, "Monarch Douglas Bank". Ressler was a wonderful combination of fully on, and yet completely off his game in this episode! But on watching it several times, what I began to see is how wary Liz was with Ressler. Even before the 'sitting there doing nothing/his reactions were crap' scene, she was looking at him carefully. Which got me thinking…what happened between him arriving late for work and them leaving to go catch the plane to Warsaw that got her feeling so cautious around him? And then my imagination took over…_

* * *

"I want you and Ressler on the next flight to Warsaw." Said Cooper, having heard enough. If he was upset - or at least curious - why his lead agent had shown up late for work, he certainly wasn't going to mention it here.

Liz's gaze flickered to Ressler, who was looking at Cooper. Their boss had directed the order at her, but Ressler answered for both of them. "Yes, sir." She thought he looked decidedly uncomfortable talking to Cooper.

As Cooper and Aram walked away, she turned her attention fully to her partner. Physically, he looked the same as ever. Suit pressed, tie impeccably placed, shirt ironed, and shoes so shiny she would see her reflection in them (if she'd looked down that far), but still there was something…different… about him. It wasn't how he looked. It was how he carried himself. Right now the air of "I'm trying to appear like everything is normal' was radiating off him so thick she could cut it with a knife.

"Everything okay?" she asked, eyeing him dubiously, knowing full well he wasn't reading the file he was apparently engrossed in.

He made sure to appear distracted, looking at the file on the MD Bank. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looked up, seeing she wasn't buying that. "Just missed my train." He normally drove in, very rarely taking the train.

_You just dug a little hole and stepped right into it feet first._

She was looking at him warily, but he couldn't handle her scrutiny right now. Not after the night he'd just had. Not with his entire muscular system still inwardly quivering like a violin string ready to snap.

"What?" And as soon as it was out, he knew he'd said it too abruptly.

_Way to go, that's not going to make her suspicious. Not. At. All._

She didn't say anything. Didn't need to. Because he knew what she was thinking, and if she voiced it, things would go downhill rapidly. There were times he really hated having a profiler for a partner. But then again, he was no profiler yet he could read her pretty well. Without another word he looked at her impatiently then walked away, heading to their office.

_Damn it. Settle down. Just act normal. Breathe…_

He inhaled deeply; trying to follow his inner voice as he walked to their office with his head down, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. No one could tell a thing if they looked up at him. But HE knew things were different. It wasn't painted on his back, like the bright yellow FBI on their navy jackets, but to him it felt like there was a giant sign on his back for all to read.

_FDA (Federal Drug Addict) or maybe FBSTD (Former Boy Scout Turned Druggie). Shit. I'm a freakin' drug addict._

Liz was a few steps behind him, reading the tension in his shoulders, the incline of his head, and the half clench of his fists. He whipped around the doorway to their shared office, and if she didn't know better, she'd swear he was about to punch the doorway as he went through but held back at the last second.

Leaning in the doorway of their office, watching him as he threw some things in his bag in preparation for their flight, she almost couldn't drag her eyes off him. What the hell was going on with her partner? If Dr Friedman saw him right now, she'd cart him off kicking and screaming to her office. Putting him in a straight jacket if need be.

His skin almost crawled under her scrutiny.  _Dammit!_   _Stop looking at me like that!_ The thought occurred to him that calling in sick might have been a 'better' option today. But that wouldn't have worked. Cooper practically forbade his agents to be sick. Ressler didn't even know the protocol for calling in sick, come to think of it. What he did know though, was that he couldn't take Liz looking at him a second longer. Finished with his overnight bag now, he roughly zipped it closed and looked up at her.

"For God's sake, Keen. I was late. Get over it." It was out before he realized, and he turned from her and scowled.

_Smooth move. Let's get the hell out of here._

"Okay, well, as long as you're fine." She said, entering their office now. Of course he wasn't fine, but if that's how he wanted to play it, she would give him the benefit of the doubt. Silently grabbing her gear from her filing cabinet, she held her tongue as he barged past her, exiting their office. If his actions had been subtle when he'd arrived, he had now risen to full on bull-in-a-china-shop mode.

Ressler's imagined sign on his back now felt like it was illuminated in neon. With the Goodyear blimp hovering above it for good measure, advertising it for all to see.

_How the hell did I let this happen?!_

Following Ressler through the war room, she nodded her farewell to Aram who smiled as she walked by his desk. Aram stole a glance at Ressler as he powered past him with Liz in tow. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something…not right…about Agent Ressler. In all honesty when he looked at the man, the impression Aram got was that of a loaded gun about to go off. And that was kinda scary…

As Liz stepped into the elevator Ressler held the door open for her, but did not meet her eyes. She looked sideways at him again as the elevator rose. He could feel her gaze, and was feeling increasingly hostile under the weight of it.

"Okay, enough of this." She reached by him and pressed the Stop button on the elevator. The gears ground to a halt, and they stopped between floors, in a yellow, silent box.

He groaned inwardly. _Let it go Keen._

Facing him, she dropped her bag to the floor, and kept her voice low and steady. "Before we step out of this elevator, you are going to tell me what is going on."

He slowly turned to look at her, silently meeting her eyes. He kept his voice steady, trying not to betray the anger bubbling below the surface. "We have a car waiting. We don't have time for this." He went to press the Go button, but she beat him to it, covering it with her hand. His hand landed on hers, and he quickly dropped it, turning to face her silently.

"Spill it, Ressler." She gave him 'the look'. She knew he never could outlast that one.

He wasn't going to let her win that one today, though, suddenly unsure why he couldn't control the rising anger he was feeling.

_You're a drug addict. Connect the dots, genius._

He leaned into her now, dropping his overnight bag on the floor as he faced her, his voice controlled, but taut. "Why are you so concerned about me being late? You're late four days out of five, Keen. Do I give you the third degree every time?!"

"I'm WAY past only being concerned about you being late, Ressler. My concern now is …this." She waved her hand at him, encompassing him standing before her like a coiled spring.

"I am only like THIS because you feel the need to profile every thing I do." He answered her, leaning in even further.

"I'm not profiling you. A week ago you told me the Bureau had only assigned shrinks to cover their asses in case one of us wigs out. 'That ain't gonna be me' you said. News Flash, from where I'm standing, you are seriously close to wigging out here."

"I'm close to it? Says the woman who doesn't live in one place more than a week, who is using aliases and thinks she's being followed. Take a look in the mirror Keen, before you start accusing ME of something." His voice was raised now as he shoved his hands in his pockets to avoid pointing in her face.

His fingers felt the bottle of Oxy sitting in his right pocket, and he gripped it hard.  _Dammit._ His stomach dropped to the floor. For one awful moment he almost felt like Liz could see the pills right there in his pocket.

Liz was about to offer a heated reply when her phone buzzed. It was Aram, texting her.

[You guys okay? We see the elevator is stopped between floors.]

She sighed and typed a quick reply. [Staff meeting] She dropped her phone back in her pocket, not waiting for a reply.

The text from Aram had distracted her. But the interruption - not to mention the bottle of pills gripped tightly in his hand - had defused Ressler. In a matter of seconds, his anger fled the scene. In seconds, he went from coiled spring ready to thump something …or someone… to standing there with his head down, feeling nothing but dismay.

When she looked up from her phone, she immediately saw the change in him. It was night and day. She swallowed the reply she'd had loaded and ready to fire, and instead, exhaled heavily.

"I'm worried about you Ressler. You're not yourself, and we're going on foreign soil and I need you to have my back." She told him, leaning down to look into his face that was still dropped, looking at the floor of the elevator.

"I've always had your back, Liz. Don't question that now."

"Yes, I know… but you're not ...YOU right now…"

He knew she wasn't letting this one go, and if they were ever to get out of here and to the airport without missing their flight, he had better make this good. He had better make it believable. With a profiler for a partner, truth was his best defense. His only defense.

_Well - PARTIAL truth._

He inhaled, then let it out slowly, then lifted his head to face her, meeting her square on. "Since you're so interested in this, fine. I didn't sleep very well last night. It was one of those more …difficult nights." He glanced to the side, then back at her, almost pleading with her not to ask any more than that.

_Just don't ask. Don't ask, Keen._

With great effort, she suppressed the urge to again tell him he needed to talk to Dr Friedman. As she looked into his eyes, there was no denying he was telling the truth. She was also very much aware that he was hiding the reason WHY the night had been more difficult.

"I know you've had difficult nights before yet still been early to work though… " She said, trying her best not to sound judgmental or accusatory.

She hadn't asked, stating it as a fact rather than a question. He met her eyes, and then glanced away again.

_Let it go already, Liz._

She continued when he didn't answer. "I'm not prying… I'm just… worried about you. You're not yourself today." She tilted her head to look at him, and he turned back to her, meeting her blue eyes with his own.

_PARTIAL truth._

"The difference was that this time I forgot to set my alarm."

_Because I was a strung out wreck at the time._

"And why couldn't you just tell me that when you got here?" She asked him.

He looked down, then met her eyes again and actually managed a hint of a smile. "It's a guy thing. We have our…male chauvinistic pride, remember?" In the dim, yellow light of the elevator, his eyes shone as he looked at her, eyes that were a little bloodshot, she noticed now.

"Yeah… Look," she placed her hand briefly on his arm, "just don't wig out on me, okay?"

_I'm trying not to Keen._

"Because I need you to have my back. And so far you haven't instilled much confidence in me today, okay?" She told him. Yes, she felt bad for him that he'd had a bad night. But they all had bad nights – and didn't act like he had today. So yes, she was concerned. And worried. And something else - she was wary of him, almost waiting for him to have a meltdown. And that was the most unsettling aspect of all.

He looked silently at her, not wanting to tell her any more than he had. Their eyes locked for a moment longer before he nodded. Reaching past him, she pressed the Go button to release the elevator.

"Okay, then let's roll." She said, then looked sheepishly at him.

"You stole my line." He said, a half smile appearing now, as the elevator shuddered a moment before resuming its upward journey.

She looked at him again, silently begging him to be okay. Because she couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that something was most definitely NOT okay with him.

On the surface at last, the doors opened at the parking garage level. Picking up their bags they stepped out together, before Ressler jogged briskly down the stairs followed closely by Liz, to the waiting vehicle outside.


	4. Amazing

_Yet another one-shot from Episode 2, "Monarch Douglas Bank". This isn't very long, compared to other chapters! Although we got a beautiful scene between Liz and Ressler at the end of their day, we were still left with him sitting there looking at the pills in turmoil. I couldn't help but think what was going through his mind…_

* * *

Ressler sat at his desk, the office softly illuminated by his desk lamp as he finished signing reports from the day's case. Outside their office, the war room was silent. The monitors were off, and most people had left for the day. Aram was working late at his desk, and he knew Liz was still around somewhere. After the day they'd had, the office felt like a safe port in a storm.

Things had been off between him and Liz most of the day.  _Yeah, almost getting her killed will do that…_  Not exactly tense, they just hadn't been on the same page as much as they should have been. He had felt her watching him. Felt her mistrust of him… Felt her waiting for him to…  _wig out…_

Head bowed, he hadn't realized she was there at first, then looked up and gave her a small smile as she stood in the doorway.

She entered their office and sat near him on the edge of his desk, but he kept signing his reports. While truth was his best defense with her, silence was where he was most comfortable. The inner demons that had whirled in his brain just that morning were silent for the moment. He knew why, of course. He'd had his fix…his brain was calm in between doses of Oxy.

When she apologized he was surprised. "I'm sorry." She said softly, watching him as he worked in the light of his desk lamp.

_YOU have nothing to apologize for._

"For what?"

"In the taxi in Warsaw, I came at you pretty hot." She said, and he was right there again in the back seat leaning over Kaja, his hands covered in her blood.

"Fog of battle" he told her, and looked back down at his reports.

She continued, praising him for taking care of Kaja. His body might have been slow to react when the mirror was shot out, but once he saw Kaja had been hurt, his brain felt sharp as a tack. Which, in hindsight, really made no sense.

_Kaja was shot just like Audrey was. I should have…lost it at that… seeing blood on a woman's stomach again, yet I didn't. Score one for the Oxy…the dream team._

He focused again on what Liz was saying. She didn't need to be doing this. He didn't need it. So if she was doing it to make him 'feel better', she was failing in that department.

Completely.

You did good." She finished, and in that moment the pit of his stomach dropped to the floor, because he hadn't done good.

_Not even close._

And in that second, looking down at his desk, his eyes darting, his brain alight, he had started to share the fact that she was right. That he had put her life in danger because she was right; his reaction time HAD been crap.

"You're right…" he said, looking up at her sitting on his desk. She deserved more from her partner than he had given today. In that instant, he tried to tell Liz that he had been…  _impaired…_

_I almost got you killed. I was too slow!_

But then the well oiled machine fired up. The practiced routine he had developed so well over the years kicked in - of burying things inside him while keeping up appearances on the outside.

The brick wall went up so fast it took even him by surprise.

He had prided himself on taking several bricks – a lot of bricks - off his wall around Liz. Of letting her see more of him than he ever would have imagined on the day they first met. Over the course of the year, he had opened up to her and let her in. He had only ever dropped more bricks around one other person.

And she had died in his arms.

Yet in that split second he had swiftly changed tack. Leaning back, away from Liz – away from her trust in him – away from the painful truth - he told her what she wanted to hear.

"I was amazing." He grinned, while inwardly screaming at himself that he was FAR from amazing.

Her face had lit up at that, as she smiled and rolled her eyes, which almost  _…almost…_  made the lie worth it.

_No, it didn't! Don't you dare justify it! Your crap reaction time almost got her killed!_

And in that instant, while he was silently berating himself, she had stood up to leave. Looking down, he didn't see her hand reach out. But suddenly her hand was on his right shoulder, gripping him. It was there for but a moment, placed on his shoulder in apology and friendship. That's what was on the surface. If anyone had looked at them, that's all they would have seen.

But below it, there was much more meaning in that simple touch.

\- I'm sorry.

\- You know I've still got your back, right?

\- I know something is up, and when you're ready to talk, I will be here for you.

\- I'm worried about you.

All of that, and so more was silently transmitted to him in one simple touch.

And when she had done it, the overwhelming urge to suddenly reach for her hand had shot through him. To quickly grab her hand and hold her there with him to tell her... The truth.

That he had lied.

_I was not amazing._

_I'm… a drug addict._

_I'm in trouble Liz._

The thought lasted a split second. He did not act on the compulsion. He sat completely still as she placed her hand on him, and still hadn't moved by the time she left their office. Frozen to the spot, with his brain on fire.

As he leaned back in his chair, he stole a furtive glance over his shoulder to ensure she had left, dropped his pen on the desk, momentarily closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

_I was not amazing, Liz._

His body moved now though. As soon as he was alone again, his hand reached for the drawer. Reached for the pills. He couldn't help it. He needed to hold them. To look at them. Because he needed them - hated them - loved them.

Because he was terrified of them - but more terrified of being without them.

Holding the pill bottle, he was unable to fathom what had happened to him.

_How can they have such a hold on me?!_

He was stronger than this - had always been ridiculously capable and physically able to withstand a ton. Yet these tiny pills, smaller than his little fingernail had taken over his entire life.

They had hijacked his body. They had almost cost him his partner today. They could in all likelihood cost him his job.

Inhaling sharply, he blinked back sudden tears of sheer frustration and helplessness.

_I don't know what to do._

_I don't know where to turn._

_Audrey…_

_Liz…_


	5. Coffee Break

_Okay, so this is from Dr. James Covington, right after they've let the doctor continue with the transplant, and the surgery is over. Ressler is looking at Keen, concerned when he hears her talking about trade offs. I liked this scene, because it was a case of 'the pot calling the kettle black'. Couldn't Ressler see that he'd changed just as much as she had in this past year? So I added a little ending to that, (and reference the story "See You Tomorrow" from my Conversations 1 series.)_

* * *

Ressler stopped and looked back at her, shaking his head a little. "The fact that you're even thinking about what trade-offs you'd make, what rules you'd ignore. The Agent Keen I met a year ago would have never done that." He looked at her and then turned away, leaving her standing there as his words hung in the air around her.

Walking down the hallway, his nerves were experiencing that oh-too-familiar feel of being stretched just a little too tightly. It had started during the last hour of the transplant while they'd waited outside the OR for Covington to get done. He needed to get out of here and find somewhere to…  _dope up…_ His hand reached to his right pocket, reassuring himself his drug of choice was still with him.

 _Damn. I hate this._ His thoughts were interrupted as he heard Liz behind him.

"Hey, wait up." She jogged to catch up to him as he walked down the plastic lined hallway of the pseudo hospital. The children who were patients were being transported one by one to city hospitals. Innocent victims in Covington's plans, but they would be looked after.

Ressler stopped and waited for her, holding up the plastic drapes that they'd walked through a few hours ago when they'd entered this strangely surreal little underground hospital.

"Coffee break?" she asked him almost apologetically.

He looked around at the agents and ambulance medics milling around the place. The scene was being taken care of and their jobs were done here. And it would be the perfect place to have a moment to her eyes again, he nodded. "Sure."

They made their way down the hallway, retracing their steps from where they'd entered the building. The wooden stairs led them back up to the street level, where they exited the building. Reaching down, she retrieved the crow bar from the ground.

"Don't forget your spare key." She said, and he smiled and took it from her, returning it to the back of their vehicle. They climbed in the Suburban together, and he started the engine. He hesitated before putting it in gear, looking sideways at her, as she put her seat belt on.  _Will I ever be able to tell you what I have to do every 12 hours?_ He squashed the thought, turned and looked in the side mirror and then pulled out into the street.

It wasn't long before they spotted a café and he parked in front of it. Entering together, he held the door open for her before they gravitated toward a booth at the rear. While Liz slid into the booth and picked up the menu, Ressler looked around for the bathrooms.

_Time for my fix…_

"Order my coffee. I'll be right back" he said before she could reply. He didn't have to tell her what he wanted. They'd had enough coffee house stops that she knew his standard order.

Striding down the hallway to the restrooms he quickly slipped in the door. His reflection looked back at him. Every time he did this, he was drawn to the mirror, searching his eyes, wondering who he was seeing. Leaning on his hands on the counter top, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

_I need to stop this. I tried. I can't._

Shaken, still arguing with himself, he stepped into a stall. It wouldn't pay for an FBI agent to be seen popping pills in public. He stood there a moment, gathering his wits about him. With two pills in his mouth as he exited the stall he cupped a handful of cold water to his mouth, swallowing them down. His eyes rose to the mirror, drawn again to the person looking back at him. Not for the first time, he asked himself the age old question.

_What the hell are you doing?_

_Slowly killing myself, I'm sure._

Quickly washing his face, he took a shuddering breath then left the bathroom and headed back to Liz. Their coffees were already on the table as he slid into the booth across from her, his stoic Agent Ressler façade already firmly in place again.

"I ordered us a couple of sandwiches." She told him, "I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

Eating was the last thing on his mind. But rather than draw attention to the fact he couldn't face food, he simply nodded and smiled. Reaching for his coffee, he took a sip. As it slid down his throat, he looked up at her.

"I'm sorry. It's my turn to apologize."

"For what?" she asked, taking a sip of her own coffee.

"I wanted the same thing you did today. To save that boys life. We were both wrong Liz. And both right. And yet I judged you for making the same decision I'd also made." He half smiled at her, looking down, then back up at her.

"Apology accepted. For what it's worth, I'd do it again in a heartbeat to save a child's life." She said, looking over her coffee cup at him.

"Yes, but that's not what I'm sorry about. Well, not all of it." He added, looking away, then back at her dubiously.

"Oh?" She knew what else he was sorry about - but was going to let him spell it out. Over the past year, she'd 'taught' him how to start expressing himself more by simply sitting back and letting him try and find the words. Encouraging him without saying a word. And he'd got pretty good at it, she thought.

"You may not be the same Agent Keen you were a year ago. But I'm not the same Agent Ressler either…" he said, then hesitated.  _You have NO idea…_  "I've changed too, in fact probably more than you…"  _Let's not go there._  He got back on track. "So I was wrong to call you out on something I'm guilty of myself."

She leaned forward toward him. "I'm not making excuses… but do you think maybe we've been around Red so long, with his way of doing the wrong thing to achieve the right result that it's considered…normal to us now?" she asked him, looking up at him in question.

He dropped his gaze to the table, thinking about that. He knew what she was saying.  _Maybe…_  "But we're each responsible for what we choose to do Liz, regardless of what others do around us."

_Like taking drugs when those around us aren't._

_I'm so freakin' screwed up._

She nodded. He was right. "So either we both deserve a medal or both deserve to be suspended for what we did today." She said, not altogether joking as her eyes met his.

His internal berating of himself quiet now, he focused back on her and replied. "Something like that." He leaned back as the waitress brought the sandwiches. She placed them between them with two smaller plates beside them. At the mention of suspension, he was immediately recalling Dr Friedman's relentless pursuit of him this past couple of weeks. She always threatened suspension, yet so far… _well, I'm still on the job._

As the waitress left, Liz took a sandwich and bit into it, letting out a satisfied moan.

"Would you and your sandwich like to be alone?" he asked dryly, and she rolled her eyes at him.

He smiled as he sipped his coffee, but made no move to eat anything himself.

The edge taken off her hunger, she wiped her hands on a napkin and faced him. "Would you be honest with me about something?" she asked, turning innocently to look into his eyes.

_Oh, here we go._

His guard was immediately up. Feigning nonchalance, he shrugged at her. "If I can." He said, covering his bases.

_Here comes the interrogation._

"Has Cooper ever called you 'Donald' or 'Don'?"

He was NOT expecting that. His mind had been expecting 'when are you ever going to see Dr Friedman?' or 'what's going on with you?' or even 'are you on drugs, because you have this whole drug addict vibe going'. So no, he wasn't expecting that from her.

"What? Why?" He then recalled the morning Audrey had died. His head dropped, and he looked to the side and she saw the cogs turning. He didn't even have to say it. Yes, Cooper had.

"Because he called me 'Elizabeth' earlier today. It was… " she searched for the word.

"Fatherly and filled with genuine concern." He finished for her, knowing exactly how Cooper would have said it. Their boss was a lot of things. Gruff, overbearing, unfair at times, fair at others, and yet somewhere deep inside he cared a great deal about the agents in his charge.

She nodded, remembering the conversation in Cooper's office. "Exactly. He's concerned I haven't grieved for Tom, or for our marriage…that I haven't taken time off for myself. Dr Friedman has expressed concerned about me, and that makes him worried, basically."

Ressler looked at her, and had to agree with Cooper. "He's right. You haven't grieved or taken time off."

"Says the man who was back at work as soon as he could be after his fiancé died." Her eyes widened and she inhaled. "I'm sorry. That was…"

He was already shaking his head to dismiss her concern. "The truth, I know that." He finished.

_I'm always finishing her sentences…_

"So he told me if I needed to talk to someone, his door was always open…" she finished, and looked up at her partner.

"You have people who care about what you're going through Liz. Don't be so surprised that he'd offer that." He told her, holding his coffee cup in both hands.

"Do you think I'm paranoid…?"

_And here we go._

He didn't even have time to answer, before she spoke again. "Because I pretty much attacked an innocent guy walking with his gym bag this morning."

"Well, the fact you just said he was innocent should tell you all you need to know on that one, Liz." he told her evenly.

She looked at him, sighed and looked away. He was watching her, seeing almost for the first time how different she was. She looked different. Well, the hair was obviously different, but she dressed differently, and she was… tougher.

_She's brown, instead of pink and blue._

"Yeah… I don't know, I still think something is going on…" she shrugged.

"If you have a guy following you with a gym bag again Liz, you call me. And I will be the one to come 'talk to him', okay?" he told her, leaning forward on the table.

"You mean you'd rough him up for me." She said, and at that, they both laughed. He leaned back in the booth, looking at his partner. Yeah, she was different, but underneath she was the same Liz Keen.

As her grin subsided, she looked at him seriously. "Thank you."

"Any time. I rescue cats from trees too." He told her, smiling into his coffee.

She reached for another sandwich. "Aren't you eating?"

"I'm not hungry." If he ate something, he was sure it would come right back up.

_Which would SO not be a good look._

But now she was studying him, in that manner he recognized so well. "The look." The one that instantly took him from a competent (albeit drugged out) agent to shrinking violet.

"You didn't eat this morning either, when Jan brought the donuts in."

He decided on the humor approach. "Hey, I have to maintain this girlish figure." He grinned.

She wasn't buying it though, "And today, you sounded out of breath a couple of times. And seriously, I ran faster than you did when we chased down Cassell on the motor cycle."

_My nerves were shot, okay? I needed more dope. Or less dope._

"Must be getting old, I guess." He said, keeping his features calm, but losing the humor now.

She scoffed at that. "You're not old. But you may be coming down with something."

 _Yeah, I'm coming down with a serious case of drug addiction._  He shrugged non-committally, not trusting himself to sound normal.

"Maybe you can go see the doc and get some pills." She offered, and he about choked on his coffee at that. He couldn't bring himself to answer, not with a profiler for a partner, so instead he placed his cup back on the table and looked at his watch.

She saw him and knew they needed to get back to the office and start their reports. "Yeah, coffee break's over. Is it my turn to pay?"

He smiled and nodded to her, rising to his feet now. "I got the last two times, remember?" he said, having regained his composure.

She left the money on the table before they walked back to the car outside. Their small break over, he pulled out onto the street and headed back to the Post Office.

Ever since the first night they'd gone for coffee, after she had invited him to dinner and he'd declined, they had started this little coffee break once or twice a week.

It was something they shared.

It was something they looked forward to.

It was something they needed more than they would ever admit to themselves.


	6. Quarantine

_So, I have to admit, I've been a little disappointed with how little the writers have given Ressler to do the past two weeks. After getting us SUCH a good start with him, with them humanizing him and seeing that beautiful grin and sense of humour (and that awesome second episode (tampon anyone?!) suddenly we were back to him standing in the war room looking at monitors or flashing his badge importantly as he interviewed people. And then when Samar and Liz were the ones rushing to the airport to apprehend the suspect, I about screamed at the TV – "give me Ressler and Liz at the airport together!" But that scream would have paled in comparison to the one that came when I realized we weren't going to get a scene with Ressler going to check on an infected Liz when she was behind the glass door! I SOO wanted to see that! So when the writers didn't give us that, I decided to rectify that situation!_

* * *

The corridor leading to Gate C-17 at Dulles was deserted as Ressler walked briskly down it. Airports were supposed to be busy. Pushing and shoving past people to get to the gate that was always at the furthest point from where you happened to be now. So this really didn't feel right, walking past Gate after Gate with no one around. At the far end of the hallway men in yellow bio suits were gathered and he made a bee line for them. He approached the Gate now, not entirely sure where Liz and Samar were. Aram had said Gate C-17, but didn't elaborate. As Ressler approached, he noted the handful of FBI agents standing by the window. What he noticed first was that the CDC types were dressed head to toe in yellow plastic and all he could see were their masked faces, basically. The poor ole' Feds were dressed in… well, FBI jackets.

_Seems a little…unsafe…_

After spending three hours with Aram tracking down the other flights and getting them grounded or turned back, they had finally got done with the FFA. Aram had then left the war room to see Cooper, after a couple of secret phone calls in corners muttering something about power grids. But at that point, Ressler really wasn't listening. He needed to get out of the war room. Checking his right pocket out of sheer habit, making sure his ...little friends... were there he'd grabbed his keys and headed to the surface. He knew where he was heading.

Because by then the only thing he needed to track down was… Liz.

Getting to Dulles hadn't been easy. With the quarantine in place, he'd had to show his badge at every street corner. He was almost turned back numerous times. At one point he'd about had a stand up fist fight with one 'weekend warrior' National Guardsman type, but he'd persevered until he finally pulled up outside the airport. And now he was almost at Gate C-17, and there…

_There she is..._

He hadn't been sure what to expect. She'd been infected with the plague and his mind was running rampant. Would she be delirious...? Or unconscious?  _Or all sweaty and babbling..._  Or would she be covered with something…  _really infectious looking all over her_.

So when he saw Liz and Samar huddled together at the door looking...normal... he was both surprised and relieved.

He'd expected them to be quiet and pensive. So he was rather taken aback when he saw them…laughing.

_Okay..._

He flashed his badge yet again to the yellow plastic guy who had turned to ward him off, then dropped down to a crouch and tapped on the glass. Liz looked up at the sound, and on seeing him smiled in surprise, wondering how on earth he had got there.

"Ressler? How? How did you get in…?" she asked him. From behind her, Samar leaned forward a little, looking up at him.  _  
_

He couldn't hear her very well through the glass. And he didn't want to shout out their conversation for the world – well, the few Feds and plastic CDC guys to hear. Opening his coat he showed her his phone and she reached for hers too. Feeling like some bizarre prison visitor on the other side of the glass with a corrupt underworld criminal, he sat down on the floor, leaned on the glass to face her and pressed her speed dial number.

She smiled, answered, and now he heard her voice clearly. "How did you get in?" she asked.

"Drove here. Only had to flash my badge 847 times. It was a piece of cake really." He smiled at her.

She chuckled at that. "But you shouldn't have come…it's not safe here." She told herself that, but really, she didn't mean that. She was very surprised... very glad… to see him here.

His smile left his face as he looked at her now. "Are you all right…? I mean really, are you feeling okay Liz…?" he asked her, speaking quietly into his phone, searching her eyes for the truth.

He saw the momentary flash of fear before she hid it. "Yeah, actually I am. Samar isn't doing too good though, as she has a gunshot wound."

Ressler settled more comfortably on the floor, and looked beyond Liz again to where Samar was sitting in the corner. "She got shot…?"  _I 'only' thought she was infected with a deadly disease._

Liz looked at him and bit her bottom lip. "Our suspect fired at her a split second before I took him out... if I'd been a second faster..." He saw her look over at the body in the room, then back at Samar. She leaned into Samar then, hugging the woman and reassuring her.

 _Curious._ Four hours ago he'd watched Samar storm off from Liz after a mini catfight in the war room, and he'd been ready to go give her a piece of his own mind.  _Now they're gal pals, apparently._

_Women. I'll never understand them._

He nodded. "Well, I'm sure everything happened very fast."  _Hell, she's infected with the plague, what good will beating herself up about firing a split second too late do at this point?_

She looked back at him, speaking into her phone to him again as she turned a little more to face him. "Any progress on the other planes?"

He knew what she was doing. If she focused on work, she wouldn't have to think about herself dying of the plague in some airport lounge.

"Yeah, got 'em all back before they reached their target cities." He told her, thinking of the endless phone calls that had taken. He had the FFA on speed dial now - and was practically on first name terms with all their employees. "It took a while, but Aram and I got there." He said tiredly, leaning on the glass.

_And then I hightailed it out of there before Cooper could bench me again._

He stopped, looking at her. If there had been no pane of glass between them, they'd have literally been about sitting in each other's laps – sitting on the floor on each side of the door, facing each other. Funny how …safe… a barrier a pane of glass could be. Leaning on the glass, looking inside at the room it hit him that he'd told Cooper they had no cure. But now...that seemed so much more real. So much more...

He looked into her eyes and held them. "Liz…" he started, but she interrupted.

"I know. Don't say it. We'll get out of this, okay?" She met his eyes, leaning against the glass and he nodded before briefly looking away at the yellow CDC guys.

 _How? There is no cure._ But he wasn't going to argue with a  _…dying woman._

He changed the subject, somewhat. "How's Samar doing there?" he asked, not really being able to see where she'd been shot or how bad it was.

Liz turned and hugged the woman again before turning back to Ressler.

_She just hugged her again… Seriously…Women…_

"I have the wound packed with my coat and the bleeding is somewhat under control for now. She got hit in her left side…" she told him, looking back at him. Her hands were bloody, he noticed now.

"Are you okay?" she surprised him when she asked him, looking at him with concern from the other side of the glass. From mere inches away, really.

_She's the one in the room infected with the plague, and she's asking me if I'm okay?_

He looked down, then back up at her. "Yeah…I'm fine. Been a long day. But yeah, I'm fine."  _Worried …about you… but I'm fine Liz…_

"Because you don't look fine Ress…" she said softly, holding the phone closer as she met his eyes.

"Just tired Liz. You know, it's not that easy being stuck back at the war room with Cooper and Aram all day while you two are out having fun in the field."  _Getting infected and injured…and maybe dying in front of me…_  He smiled, trying to make light of it. He had tried very, very hard this afternoon, after hearing that she'd been infected. To anyone else, it might have even looked like he hadn't even been concerned.

_But Liz saw through that. Of course she did._

He changed tack again. "What were you laughing about right before I got here?"

She looked at him a second, and then grinned as she turned to Samar. "Oh, you don't want to know that."

He got it. "Aaahh, girl crap." He smiled, and again wondered how the hell Liz and Samar had suddenly become besties in such a short time.

 _I guess dying together will do that…_  And that sobered him up. He looked at his watch. If they didn't have a cure in 5 hours...  _I'll be looking for a new partner._

She saw the look in his eyes, and knew what he'd been thinking when he looked at his watch. She couldn't let him dwell there.

"Nipple guards." She smiled.

He blushed. "Um…?" He raised his eyebrows at that.

She cracked up when she saw the expression on his face. It struck her again how boyish and charming blushing made him seem, the rare times she'd seen it. And in that moment she wanted the pane of glass gone and wanted to… well, she wanted the pane of glass gone.

"It would be lost in translation, but yeah, that's what we were laughing about." She smiled.

She looked up at him leaning beside her, then placed her hand on the window, palm facing him.

He looked at her hand. "Are we going to do that whole Mr Spock and Captain Kirk thing?" he suddenly smiled, taken by the likeness to 'that' famous death scene in the Star Trek movies.

His smile left his face as he said it though and he met her eyes beyond her hand. In the movie they'd been saying goodbye when they did that. He wasn't going to say goodbye to Liz. Not like this.

She dropped her hand now, laying it back at her side. "No, not today." She felt it too.

She looked back at Samar then and checked her pulse. The woman was losing blood and needed to be out of here. They both needed to be out of here, but she wasn't sure how or if that was going to happen. She looked back at her partner, seeing him leaning on the glass thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry..." she said, and his eyes lifted up to hers. "I came in here deliberately to help Samar. I chose to come in here and I got infected. I'm not sorry I helped her. But I'm sorry if that's...going to be the last thing I ever do for another person..."

He understood. "I know." he smiled. "I'd have done the same thing." _And maybe me being here will be the last thing I ever do for you Liz..._

"Of course you would... my Boy Scout." and she smiled then, tracing her finger on the glass near his hand that was resting on his knee. He looked down then, and blinked back sudden tears. He didn't want her to see that.  _She's the one dying here..._

From beyond her, he heard a phone ringing as Liz turned toward the sound. It was Samar's phone and she answered it breathlessly.

After a brief conversation, she hung up and looked at them both. "That was Aram. Said he's been trying to call each of you but couldn't get through". He thought there may be something wrong with your phones." She smiled at them knowingly, watching them both as they looked sheepishly at each other, still holding their phones up to their ears.

"Anyway, Reddington has obtained the cure after finding it at the compound, and vials of it are now arriving at the hospital." She leaned back on the wall and closed her eyes at that news, catching her breath. Liz laid her hand on her in reassurance.

It took a second for that to sink in to Ressler's brain. She'd said it so casually.

Reddington had found the cure.

_Reddington did? Well of course he did._

Liz turned back to him and smiled tiredly. "So I guess this won't be the last thing I do for another." And Ressler nodded, dropped his gaze and smiled thankfully at that.

"So what does that mean for us getting out of here?" Liz started to ask, but then saw the answer herself. The plastics (as Ressler was now referring to them) were approaching the glass, full of intent, their yellow containment suits crackling.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step back. We have authorization to enter the room and evac the patients to the hospital. And you can't be here." He noticed the other FBI agents were already well on their way down the corridor, out of the way.

Ressler looked at Liz as she smiled at him and spoke into her phone. "We'll be okay. How about you head back before Cooper misses you?"

He hesitated. He didn't want to leave her right now, yet he had no protective clothing on. He nodded, knowing he had to leave. But before he did, he gave her his half smile, then placed his palm on the glass in front of her. She met his eyes and smiled and placed her smaller hand on his, the only thing between them, a quarter inch sheet of glass.

"I'll see you on the other side, Ress." She smiled.

"Live long and prosper." He deadpanned into his phone, and she cracked up up at that, making Samar wonder what the joke was.

He held his hand there a moment longer as he smiled at her, watching her laugh. They didn't need to say anything else and both hung up their phones, letting them slide back in their pockets.

He got up off the floor and stood looking down at the two of them, then moved aside as the plastics made ready to break the seal on the door.

"Sir, if you will head down with the agents toward the far end of the corridor, we will see to the ladies and get them to the hospital. We'll take good care of them." Ressler thought he sounded like a storm trooper, talking through his mouthpiece on his suit.

_God, it's been a long day. I'm losing it._

He smiled at Liz again, looked at the plastic, then left and walked down the hallway. As he was walking down the hallway alone, his phone rang and fishing it out of his pocket he saw that it was Liz.

He answered the call without saying a word, and all she said was "Thank you. It meant a lot." And she hung up.

He smiled. He hadn't needed to reply.

"Be safe Liz…" he said softly to himself, exiting the corridor now as behind him, the plastics broke the seal on the door.


	7. Dead Run

_So, after waiting all week with absolute nervousness (yes I was nervous!) and baited breath to see Ressler being hunted, I must admit I loved what we got – but was SO frustrated that it wasn't enough! (Maybe I'm just never happy?!) But seriously…he's being hunted, then we get this LONG scene between Red and Peter Fonda, and all about Dembe (I loved hearing Dembe's history, don't get me wrong – but did it have to be right THEN?!) and meanwhile our favourite agent is running for his life and not getting any screen time! So yeah…'just a little' bummed out about that. And then at the end, he 'just appeared' in the ambulance?! Seriously?! How did he get out of his running for his life?! How did he get rescued and taken to the ambo?! What did he and Liz say to each other - and why was the scene shot from SO far away?! So, when I calmed down after seeing him SO sad at the end (when he broke down I literally cried with him...) I thought, well, maybe this is how it all went down…_

_(And yes, it would appear Diego himself read this chapter, seeing his reply to me on Twitter! And you guessed it - that about made my giddy Diego/Ressler/Keenler heart explode!)_

* * *

The campfire was making him sweat more, sitting in the wool hat and coat. And sitting with stuffed bodies wasn't helping the situation either.  _What kind of sick…?_  He'd never seen anything like it. And coupled with how his gut was currently feeling, it was all he could do to sit still among them, wearing a wool hat and coat that a dead, stuffed guy had just been clothed in. But it was his only chance. He couldn't run right now after his legs cramped up. And so he sat…holding a cup, sitting as still as he could before the…hunter…caught up to him.

_Damn it! Keep your hand still! Keep your head down!_

There was movement off to his right. Someone approaching –  _and talking to the stuffed bodies?! Good God._

The cup was moving and he gripped it harder, which only made it shake more.  _Damn it! Keep still!_  And as he struggled to keep his breathing in check as sweat rolled down his face, the eyes of the man turned toward him. Ressler wasn't even looking at the tall, bald man but he could feel his eyes burning into him.

 _Now!_ He lunged, jumping over the campfire, and hit the man full on in the chest. He'd hit brick walls that were softer. The man fell back from the log at the impact, and rolling on the ground, Ressler's head struck the ground and he grimaced in pain. And then he was being lifted. Bodily lifted, as an adult would lift a child. The strength of the bald man was incredible.

 _Or I'm just too much of a JUNKIE to resist right now._ Chungs' words wouldn't stop shouting in his brain.

Ressler fought, but the bald man's hands were around his throat, holding him up against a tree trunk as he struggled for breath. Panting, trying to move away, he was trapped. If he'd been in a better frame of mind he might actually have found it amusing that all 6 feet, 180lb of him was being lifted this way - held against an unforgiving tree trunk.  _The guy has to be 7 foot tall!_

_Knife!_

He saw the knife coming up, realizing in horror that he was unarmed.  _No, not completely!_  The arrow tip that had killed Chung was now in his hand. He swung it, striking the bald giant in the gut, ripping the arrow through him. Terror met his eyes as he looked into the bald man's face, and then blood was pouring onto his hand. He hit the ground as the giant let go of him. Struggling to regain his feet, he scooted away from the man, who was now clutching his bleeding stomach with both hands.

Clambering unsteadily to his feet now as he ran, his breath heaved in his chest.  _Run!_ And in some distant memory he heard "Run, Forrest! Run!"

_Run, Donnie! Run!_

And he ran. As fast as his unsteady feet could carry him, crashing blindly through the underbrush. Within moments was out of sight of the bleeding giant and his sick taxidermy camp fire. He kept running, until he tripped and fell headlong on a tree root, crying out and gasping for breath.

Rolling onto his back testing his ankle that had caught the tree root, he looked up at the tree tops that rose above him, barely moving in the stillness. The only sound permeating the night was his heavy breathing and he tried desperately to still it. He was also sure someone would hear his heart pounding in his chest. Thankfully his ankle was still mobile, but another cramp tore through his belly then, causing him to retch again as he struggled to roll over. Climbing unsteadily to his knees, he clenched his shaking hands again, ignoring the throbbing in his broken thumb.

He'd give anything for a pain pill right now.

_Absolutely anything._

But no pain pills were coming. He'd checked his pockets a dozen times, his thumb screaming each time he did so, and they were most definitely not on him.

_You're a junkie. Now move it!_

He moved. Lurching to his feet, he took off again, heading away from the camp fire that was still barely visible through the trees behind him. But of the giant, there was no sign. Running for another minute or so, he pulled up short, grabbing a tree trunk as the ground dropped off sharply in front of him.

 _Damn it._  The ground dropped away at his feet. He'd have really done a number on himself if he'd fallen down that sharp incline.

Turning, he followed the ridge now, still heading away from the campfire. He had no clue what direction he was heading, having long since lost his bearing.  _I think it's south…we'll say it's south._

The road with the gas station had been off to the east when he'd approached the Ranch. He stopped, looking around for anything that could tell him what direction he was heading in. And then he looked up, seeing only trees. Moving to a small clearing he looked up again. Teen astronomy 101 kicked in. It had been a while, but he recognized the major constellations.  _Okay, there's the North Star… Yeah… I think... okay, then this way is East…_ He moved off, slower now, still looking behind him. There was no sign of pursuit.

He looked up at the sky again, seeing something that made his breath catch in his throat. Sinking to his knees, looking up at the sky, he stared in wonder at the Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights danced slowly above him, green sheets of light shimmering in the sky.

"Audrey…" he whispered, thinking of her as he watched the green and purple curtains rippling across the sky.

And suddenly, tears flowed down his cheeks at the pure beauty of it. In the midst of running for his life, his body screaming, sweating and cramping with no pills, he was struck down by the sheer majesty of the lights in the sky above him.

And for a moment, he almost didn't care if this was the last thing he ever saw.

###

A sound came from behind him and to his right, bringing him to his senses. Looking sharply in that direction he then quickly charged for cover behind a tree, the spell of the lights above him broken now. Keeping a lookout as he leaned on the tree trunk, his stomach suddenly heaved again and he leaned over, dry retching.

 _Keep quiet!_ Absolutely sure an arrow from a cross bow would shoot out from the dark at any second, he couldn't stay there and turned and ran again. Heading along the ridge, he hoped like hell he could reach the road that he'd come in on.

The northern lights above him lit his way now. But he soon realized they also lit the way for his pursuer. And it was while he was making his way over a large rocky outcrop, keeping in the same general eastward direction, that he realized his pursuer must have overtaken him. A flashlight shone in the trees off to his right, and he had nowhere to go. He was on the rocks, with the drop off to his left, and commotion in the trees in the direction he was heading for.

_Dammit! Move!_

He ran as fast as he could and almost fell over the rocks in his effort to get ahead of his pursuer now. He had no choice if he was to overtake the man and reach the road. Hurtling through the trees now, his breath was heaving, keeping an eye on the light off to his right. He was well aware of the noise he was making. A flashlight was moving through the trees to his right, getting closer.

He was running so hard, with his eyes averted to the right that he didn't see the man in front of him until he slammed right into him.

_God! No!_

He rolled on the ground, his thumb screaming in agony having taken most of the brunt of the hit.  _Get up! Get up! Get up!_

"HRT! Freeze!" The man yelled out.

Ressler saw the assault rifle pointed right at him, and was picking himself up off the ground to hurtle away when the words registered in his fried brain.

 _HRT?!_ He made out the green uniform of the Hostage Rescue Team then, and gasped.

"Wait! …Donald Ressler! …FBI!" he yelled at the man breathlessly and staggered to his feet, leaning over as another cramp shot through his belly.

The man withdrew his rifle immediately and instead reached out one arm to Ressler to steady him. With his other hand he picked up his radio.

"Subject secured! I have located the Federal Agent! All units converge on my location."

As his stomach settled, Ressler stood now with his chest heaving looking at the HRT guy. "Am I … glad to see you. There's a man out… out there with a cross bow, hunting me…"

"We located him and two others sir, at their home. All suspects are now deceased."

"What…?"  _Then…no one has been pursuing me for a while…?_

Other men were making their way through the trees now, surrounding him. Ressler suddenly felt very exposed. Sweating and unsteady in the midst of them, he felt like the entire world could see…  _I am a junkie…_  Chung's words wouldn't shut up in his head. He'd denied it. But Chung had been right.

Someone threw a light blue blanket over his shoulders and he gripped it, mainly for something to shield himself with than for warmth.

"If you are able to, you can come this way sir." The HRT guy told him and Ressler nodded as they left the area. He noticed the men kept their weapons at the ready on the perimeter. But right now, he was too exhausted to care and just needed to get to wherever the men were leading him.

And sit down and have some pain pills.

As it turned out, he had been very close to the ranch house. In just a few minutes they approached the scene and he saw it swarming with FBI and HRT. For a second he stopped. It was Stanley Kornish all over again. The Stewmaker and his cabin in the woods, swarming with law enforcement. He found his feet again and continued walking unsteadily toward the scene.

Led to an ambulance, he almost fell down on the back tailgate rather than sitting. His legs were fast abandoning him, feeling like spaghetti and his body hurt everywhere. He was glad for the semi darkness, not wanting to be seen by too many people right now. The medic appeared beside him, asking him something.

"What…?" with an effort he focused on the guy, listening.

"Are you hurt sir?" the medic was asking him, reaching for his stethoscope and listening to Ressler's chest.

Silently, Ressler motioned to his right ear that had been tagged. Like a deer. A deer that had been hunted to be slaughtered. He'd have ended up like one of those poor stuffed guys sitting around that sick taxidermy campfire. He leaned forward at that thought, his stomach clenching.

"Are you nauseous?" the medic was asking him, now checking the tag on his ear.

_You could say that. Junkie withdrawal's a bitch._

"I'm fine…" he panted, just wishing the guy would hurry up.

"I can give you something for your stomach, if you wish." He told the agent, but at that moment Ressler just wanted to walk away. Just walk away and stand in the trees by himself. Because he was trying very hard not to lose it.

He didn't answer the medic. Just shook his head a little.

"Okay sir, keep still and I'll get this tag off your ear…" said the medic, now pouring liberal amounts of alcohol over his ear to sterilize it.

"Damn!" Ressler spun at that.

"Sorry sir. I'll have it out in a jiffy…" Ressler felt pressure, heard a snip right at his ear and then the tag was sitting in the medic's hands. "And there we go sir, all done."

Ressler reached up and took the yellow tag from the medic's hand, both fascinated and horrified by it. He licked his lips and dropped the tag to the ground as the medic placed some sterile tape over his ear, stopping the bleeding.

"Let me take a look at your thumb here, sir." He said, reaching for his left hand.

But Ressler pulled it from his grasp. "Old injury… It's fine." He panted.  _Please just...just go away and don't look too closely at me..._

"Are you okay sir…?" Now the medic WAS looking closer, his eyes narrowing as he took in the agent's sweaty, pale appearance.

_Don't. Just don't._

"I'm fine. Please, just…let me be." Ressler almost begged the guy. And when he did pack up his stethoscope and did let him be, he wasn't sure if the medic had listened to him, or realized exactly what was wrong and had backed off.

Either way, he didn't care.

Right now, all he wanted to do was find the nearest hole and crawl into it – after he'd had some pain pills. Yet for some reason that he couldn't explain, even to himself, he had been unable to ask the medic for some pain pills. Just couldn't bring himself to do it. It was something he needed to do in private, to stand at the mirror and berate himself while doing it...and that was a hard habit to break. Pulling his blanket more around his shoulders now, he sat there, almost oblivious to the activity around him. What had happened to him today would come to light. He wouldn't be able to hide this _…drug addiction…_ anymore.

He sat there staring blindly at the activity around him, his body aching from head to foot as his thumb throbbed  _(whose fault is that?)._  He finally became aware of someone approaching him, and in a daze he looked up.

And froze.

He hadn't even realized she was here.

"Liz? What are you doing here?" He leaned up and away from her, instinctively trying to back up and hide himself from her view.

 _Oh my God!_ He didn't want her to see him.  _Not like this!_

But she had seen. She moved in closer to him as his eyes dropped to her hands - that he now realized were holding onto something carefully, half hidden as she showed only him.

She was holding his pills.

And all he could do was stare at the bottle, then up into her eyes. But then he couldn't help himself and dropped his gaze and reached hungrily for them, taking them from her hand.

_The junkie needs his drugs. Oh, God..._

He gripped them in his right hand, hiding them from view. And he looked at her again and met her eyes. And realized he'd let down the one person that he had never wanted to.

_And damn it, she's looking at me KINDLY._

That was harder than if she'd been angry.

He dropped his gaze and closed his eyes, and now she was sitting beside him. Close by him when all he'd done was let her down.

She knew what he was.  _A junkie._

Her arm was on his shoulder now. Soft and warm and safe.

_No. I don't… deserve it…I don't…_

What was left of his carefully built wall around himself came tumbling down as her arm held him. Dropping his head into his hand he couldn't stop the tears now as she leaned into him more. Not saying a word, just being with him.

 _Liz…I don't…_ Tears fell as he slipped his hand to the back of his neck now, dropping his head further as she sat with him.

And while she sat beside him supporting him as he cried, he held out his hand to her and gave her the pill bottle. He couldn't hold it anymore. Couldn't think about them anymore. Needed to stop taking them right now. She took it, slipping them into her pocket and leaned closer to him now with one arm on his shoulder and the other now holding his empty hand.

And his earlier thought came flooding back. It was the Stewmaker all over again. Only this time he was the one collapsing while she held him up.

"It's going to be okay, Ress… it will be okay…" she whispered gently to him.

And as his tears fell, he wished he could believe her. Because right now, the bottom had just fallen out of his world.

All over again.


	8. Night Flight

_You didn't really think I'd just leave Ressler sitting in the back of the ambulance with Liz, did you? Of course not! So it's unknown at this point if the show will have him back to 'normal' next week (Ivan anyone…?), or still feeling the after effects of this. So regardless of what the show will do next with our beautiful suffering agent, I still wanted to follow up with the two of them after he broke down in the ambulance. And I do want to say (after my rant at the beginning of the last chapter!) that while I was frustrated at the gaps in what we got, I do thank the writers for pushing Ressler and Liz together there, just like he needed. In Mako Tanida he brushed Liz off (let's face it, the man was an island) but by this episode, he let her in. And THAT most definitely warmed my Keenler heart!_

* * *

Ressler was feeling very much like he had been slammed into by a truck - that had then come back around for a second hit, just for good measure. But his physical pain almost paled in comparison to what was going through his mind. It had all come crashing down around his ears. Having juggled the pills and work for so long, he almost felt he could get away with it forever. He'd hated it, loathed himself for it, but as time had gone on, he had got very good at it. And he had almost got away with it.

Until he could no longer refill his prescription.

And had been reduced to a strung out junkie breaking his own bones to get his next fix.

And looking down at his splinted thumb, he realized it represented him on a smaller scale - broken and bruised, and in need of support to heal.

And seemingly from nowhere that support was here in the shape of Liz, whose arm was on his shoulder. He leaned into her, the dam having broken as he cried tears of sheer hopelessness.

… _how the hell did it come to this…?_

All those weeks and months of hiding this were over though. And in some small way, that was actually a relief. He couldn't bring himself to look Liz in the eye, but turned his head toward her as he started to control his tears, his voice hitching as he shook.

"…get me out…of here…"

Feeling him quivering under her, she leaned into him. "Come on." And standing, she helped him up, then looped her arm in his as they walked away from the ambulance, leaving the red and blue flashing lights behind them. She'd been aware of Samar glancing over at them while sitting in the ambulance but she didn't go and speak to the Mossad agent. Some things were between …friends… and extended family. And she hadn't been around long enough yet to be a part of this, nor would Ressler want her too close, she knew that. She looked up at her partner as she walked beside him, seeing the lost look in his reddened eyes. She'd seen that look before, sadly. On the day he'd lost Audrey and lost everything in the snow.

And as she looked at him her heart found itself in a familiar place – aching for him.

He didn't really care where they went. Just so long as he was out of sight and somewhere quiet. But as he walked slowly and unsteadily he realized he was heading toward the black jeep that he'd arrived in earlier that day. It seemed a lifetime ago. As he approached it on legs that had almost forgotten how to walk, his stomach lurched again. He leaned forward, hands on his knees and retched and coughed, feeling her rubbing his back until he was able to stand up again.

_I don't deserve your kindness Liz…I don't…but I… I'll take it…_

They reached the jeep and as he stood looking at the passenger door, his thumb throbbed horribly at the memory of just what he'd done to himself in that door. But it was a pain he'd 'earned', and he didn't complain. Liz opened the passenger door for him, picking up his trailing blanket as he sat down heavily inside. Quickly going around to the drivers' side, she climbed in beside him.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Anything…?" She asked him, touching his arm. He shook his head slowly in reply.

"No."  _Hell no._  He couldn't bear the thought of anything on his stomach right now.

Laying his head back on the head rest, he closed his eyes, and she looked more closely at him. Even in the semi darkness, she could see how grey he looked. How sick he looked… A far cry from this morning where she'd told him he was 'edgy'. Now she realized why he had been edgy. He'd apparently been without his pain pills for most of the day, and it had led him to…this…

There would be time later to discuss what had happened. For now she was thinking of their next steps. Cooper…and what would happen to Ressler when…or if… this was discovered. But did their boss need to know…? Could Ressler get 'well' before he needed to see Cooper? Her mind was reeling with all the different scenarios.

Ressler's stomach cramped again and he gripped it now, gasping. He felt her hand on his arm again, and looked across at her.  _I screwed up… I'm a junkie…and I'm sorry…_ And he couldn't stop shaking, and gathered his blanket around him more.

"Let me see if I can really get us out of here…" and she dialed a number on her phone. Ressler didn't even have to ask who she was calling.  _Mr Fix it…Reddington._  His head was aching, and he closed his eyes again, leaning back and sighing heavily.

"Dembe, where are you guys?" she said, as the call was answered. "Really? You are?" She looked across at her partner, her hand still on his arm, feeling his shakes increasing. "Can you get us back to DC? Ressler…and I… Ressler and I need to get back…" She didn't elaborate and listened to Dembe as he spoke to Red. "Okay, give us 30 minutes or so and we'll be there." She looked at Ressler worriedly as she hung up her phone.

"They're landing in Sitka right now." She was greeted with a slight nod from her partner. "Let me go see Samar. Wait here."

_I'm not going anywhere Liz…_

As she left the vehicle, he opened his eyes and watched her walking away as she headed toward Samar, who he hadn't even noticed was here. Apparently there were a lot of things he hadn't noticed of late. He felt like crap, and closed his eyes again, shutting out the world around him. The jeep wasn't exactly a hole in the ground that he'd crawled into, but it would do.

Liz was back in a few minutes. "Well, I let her know Red was coming and that she could head out with us if she wanted, but she chose to stay and…help process the scene. She'll head back with some of the other agents later."

Ressler heard the hesitation and nodded at that.  _You mean she doesn't want to be around a junkie of an FBI agent…then she can deny all knowledge later…_ He decided not to pursue that line of thought.

Liz started the engine and turned and headed up the heavily leafed driveway of the cabin, before driving out onto the road toward the airstrip. Beside her Ressler turned his head away from her, closed his eyes and clung to his blanket, trying not to throw up with the motion of the vehicle.

###

They arrived at the small airfield 20 minutes later, and immediately saw Red's pristine Learjet contrasting starkly to the small single and double engine planes dotting the field. Not for the first time, Ressler wondered at Red's net worth and all of these 'toys' of his.

 _And there he is…_  Red was making his way down the steps of the plane, as Liz parked near the jet. Ressler suddenly didn't want to face the man.

_That's going to be a little difficult while sitting on his damn plane._

"Ready?" Liz asked him, and he looked at her, his eyes two pools of dejection. She was well aware he was nervous about being seen like this.

He momentarily closed his eyes in reply, then climbed out of the jeep, clutching his blanket around him.  _My security blanket…_ He sighed heavily again and with his head down, he followed closely behind Liz to the steps of the plane.

"Donald…" Red stopped him as he approached the plane, placing his hand on his shoulder. Ressler couldn't even look at him, and didn't raise his head. "Glad to see you're still in one piece, my friend." And if he noticed (and how could he miss, really) how bad Ressler looked, he tactfully remained silent on that. But he glanced questioningly at Liz before stepping aside to let Ressler slowly climb the stairs to the jet.

Feeling like his head was going to explode, he slumped down in a seat at the very rear of the plane, his blanket still around his shoulders. He stole a glance at Liz as he did so, before closing his eyes against the overhead lights. Reaching up, she turned off his overhead light for him, for which he was eternally grateful.

He felt something on him now and looked up to see Liz laying a blanket over him as he shook, cocooning him between the two blankets.  _Thanks mom…_  And that brought back a memory of that morning when he'd faced off with Chung because he had needed to hit something SO badly right then, and tears suddenly sprang to his eyes.

 _I don't deserve your kindness Liz…_ And he turned away to the window and closed his eyes as he shook.

Four minutes later he was asleep, his body too hurt and exhausted to do anything else. And as the plane took off, the aurora danced outside the window lighting up the sky again, but this time he wasn't even aware of it.

###

Red was holding the pill bottle that Liz had handed him, twirling it in his fingers.

"These were prescribed today, in Sitka." Red glanced down the plane at the sleeping FBI agent, and shook his head. "How did he get them?"

"I didn't ask him how…he wasn't in much state to ask him anything… And it was filled for 10 tablets. Look how many are left in there." Liz told him, and Red opened the bottle, counting 4 tablets.

"Aaahh, Donald…" he said under his breath, again looked toward Ressler, then recapped the bottle and handed it back to Liz. "And yet even with 6 tablets today, he's clearly in withdrawal. That shows you one of two things. How many he's been needing to take daily to maintain equilibrium, or that these tablets are not nearly as strong as what he's been using."

"Using..." Liz repeated the word, hating to hear it in reference to her partner. "He wasn't himself all day." She told him, remembering Chung's arrest. "Actually, he hasn't been himself for weeks…"

She leaned back in her seat and sighed. Knowing why he hadn't been himself for weeks didn't help. "He didn't take any more pills though and handed these back to me willingly. That's gotta be a good sign though, right…?" She asked Red.

"It shows acknowledgement, definitely, which is a very important first step." He looked at her now. "Lizzie, what are you going to tell Harold?" And he could see by her expression that she had no clue what she was going to tell her boss. "I ask because Donald is going to need some time to…recover…from this. And if Harold doesn't know, then it will need to be away from prying eyes. And that is something I can help with. I can provide that privacy for him."

She smiled humorlessly at him and nodded. "He can't go back to his apartment alone, that's for sure. Plus we don't know how many pills he has stashed there…" She stopped, unable to believe she was discussing her 'by the book' partner. Her boy scout partner…

"Exactly. He's going to need support through this Lizzie." He looked up again toward Ressler, noting the sudden restlessness in the sleeping man, then back at Liz "And right about now, in fact. He's having a nightmare."

Liz turned quickly and looked behind her, got up from her seat and reached Ressler right as he shot awake. His right hand grasped his forehead, the pain in his head accelerating at the sudden movement. Panting, gripping his head, he leaned forward.

"Hey, it's okay…" she told him, not getting too close in case he lashed out at her while still waking. "It was a dream…it's okay…"

He focused on her now, seeing her, yet still seeing his dream. "They were all dead!" he told her, panting. "Sitting around a damn campfire! Dead!" He leaned forward, gripping his head again, gulping in air.

"It was a dream Ress, a nightmare…"

"No! It was real!" he told her, and looked up as Red came to stand by them. "It was real." He repeated to the criminal, trying to catch his breath.

Liz wasn't sure what he was getting at, but Red had an idea, and leaned down to him. "Where were they? Where did you see them Donald?" he asked calmly.

And the fact that the man wasn't telling him it was just a dream helped him calm down a little. "In the forest. I asked if they would help me. But they were dead. All of them. Sick. Demented. Stuffed trophies!"

_And I sat among them! Sat there with them!_

Liz stared at him. What Ressler was saying started to make sense. They had not been able to ascertain the reason the bodies washed ashore were flayed. But if they were used by a taxidermist… She looked at her partner, who was now leaning back in the seat, with closed eyes.

"What else happened in the forest?" Again, Red asked him calmly. He had two reasons for asking. One, he felt the need to hear what Perl had been responsible for. And two, the longer Donald kept talking about the dream/memory, the less likelihood he was to retreat back to the quiet, ashamed Ressler who had come on board. And right now, that was helping the man more than anything.

And Ressler remembered it all clearly, and with his eyes still closed he spoke again. "I was hunted by a giant with a crossbow." And something occurred to him then, and he grimaced in disgust shook his head slowly, looking at both of them now. "Because an arrow is cleaner than a shotgun. To protect the… pelt."

 _Oh God…_ He looked away and swallowed hard.

"A giant?" Red prompted, and as Liz started to speak, knowing who Ressler was referring to, Red placed a hand on her shoulder to quiet her. He wanted this from Donald.

"Guy had to be 7 foot tall…and strong… crazy strong…" He told them now, remembering being held up to the tree. And remembering what his weapon was to escape that. The arrow that had killed Chung.

_Chung died because I stopped him running away!_

Liz saw him remembering something now, his eyes darting. "What…what else?"

He was back in the forest, listening to Chung calling him a junkie. Lunging at the man, pinning him to a tree, denying he was a junkie. And that very action had resulted in Chung's death. He dropped his head now, sighing heavily.

Red knew he'd got all he was going to get out of the agent for now. He patted Liz's shoulder, and then returned to the front of the plane, leaving her beside her shaking partner.

"What is it…?" Liz moved to the chair across from him, leaning forward to him.

He looked up at her, and again she almost recoiled at the desperation in his eyes. "I found Chung…he was being hunted too." he told her, and looked away. "And my…condition…got him killed." He turned into the window at that, sighing, holding his aching forehead.

He wanted to ask her for his pills back. He needed to take them. But when he looked back up at her to ask, he couldn't do it. He couldn't let her down again. So he turned back to the window and looked outside at the inky blackness out there, feeling it mirror his own heart.

She didn't want him to shut down on her, not again. Not like after Mako Tanida, so spoke up again. "What happened out there Ress…?"

_We were hunted like animals, Liz..._

And suddenly he needed to get it all out. To let someone else know how bad it had been out there. And in telling her that, he could hold off for a little while longer on discussing… _the fact that I'm a junkie…_  He turned to her, and looked her in the eye. "When I got to the ranch, I thought it was deserted. But then an old woman showed up, and then her son Pete Kincaid." He was surprised he even remembered the guy's name.

"And then I heard something, and went to his 4 wheeler…" He looked away, remembering. "He said it was a goat. But it wasn't a goat Liz. It was…it was Chung. In a dog crate, tagged like an animal, in the back of that vehicle."

She looked at him in horror, and let him continue.

"Next thing I knew Kincaid slammed his fist down onto my broken thumb, and then knocked me out cold." He moved his thumb away when she glanced down at it.  _Damn…_  He had just revealed that his thumb was broken before he'd been hunted. And at the confused look in her eyes, could see she'd picked up on that immediately.

_Tell her…no point holding back now…_

Bringing his thumb back into view, he looked at her. Telling Liz was almost harder than slamming the door on his thumb. "I broke my own thumb, Liz… I chose to break it deliberately…because I..." He couldn't finish and looked down then, closing his eyes against the look in hers.

Realization dawned. "That's how you got your prescription filled today…aaaww, Ress..." And instinctively, she reached out to his hand, cupping it gently in hers as she held his bruised and broken thumb, feeling both appalled and heart broken that he'd been reduced to doing that.

_Liz…don't… I don't deserve…_

And suddenly he couldn't say anything else as tears welled up in his eyes again, seeing her small hand cradle his. And she was so kind and gentle and understanding that he didn't pull his hand away.

"You're not alone in this any more…" she told him, and he nodded to her. And he couldn't find the words. Couldn't trust his voice anymore.

_I'm so sorry Liz…_

And his other hand came up and he placed it over hers, unable to look at her as his tears fell.


	9. Lean on Me

_So, I just can't stop thinking about Episode 2x06! Our poor Ressler hitting rock bottom... And I looked at the promo pics from Episode 7 and he's back at work (...in typical Blacklist fashion). So I figure he had to have gone through some sort of detox in this week - assuming he's coming off the drugs! And I kept thinking that if he's back at work in 2x07, then Cooper probably doesn't know what happened. Because a drug addicted/in recovery FBI agent would not be back at work and out in the field IF his superiors knew. So the answer was obvious, of course - I knew just who could provide the required rehab resources for those first critical days and then the follow up care! (And I normally wait for the episode and fill in the gaps – so yeah, I'm pre-empting this one! So I could be TOTALLY wrong here, but hey, I'm running with it!)_

* * *

The city lights outside the plane window looked beautiful from afar. Or so Ressler had always thought. It was one of those things that wasn't cool to mention to anyone, but he'd always liked the look of the city at night from the air. From above you couldn't see the filth, dirt and rottenness that pervaded the city. All you saw was the beauty of it. But right now, all the lights meant that he was coming in to land in DC after leaving Sitka, and his real challenge was about to begin. All they meant to him now was that the relative 'safety' inside this jet was coming to an end.

He was leaning against the window, unable to stop shaking and trying to get his mind off what had gone down in this horrendous day. It had started normally enough. He'd got up, got showered, dressed, drank coffee, went for his pills - except there were no pills. Standing at the pharmacy telling the woman (the very unimpressed woman) that his pills had been stolen from his car was not a good start to the day. Having her refuse to refill – replace – the prescription set the scene for what was to come. And even he could not have imagined it would have spiraled downhill so fast, so depressingly…and with so much physical and emotional pain.

Stealing yet another glance at his broken and splinted thumb, he swallowed hard and closed his eyes momentarily. Turning his attention again to what was outside the window was his best option right now. He saw the lights of the smaller towns below him gradually grow and become larger towns. Their lights dotted the landscape. Until the white and yellow glow on the horizon showed him DC was mere minutes away. And he didn't want to land. He didn't want to face the world. Face Cooper. Face the consequences. Yet he didn't want to stay in this horrible limbo either. Sitting here, shaking, cramping and sweating and aware that Liz was watching him with deep concern…  _and deep sadness, that's hard to miss_ … He didn't know what to do next.

As they began their descent, Liz looked into his dark, dilated eyes as she felt the plane dropping lower. It was impossible to miss how he was feeling. It radiated off him as waves of painful shaking and cramping overtook him. But it was more than that. A deep desperation was evident behind those dark pools that were his eyes. He hadn't spoken in a couple of hours. He'd retreated into himself after he had told her he had deliberately broken his own thumb, putting up a shield around him. And right now she couldn't penetrate that. And maybe right now it was the only way he was coping. So she stayed right outside his shield, ready and waiting to hold him up the moment it fell away.

The plane came in to land, bounced once on the runway, and taxied to a stop a couple of minutes later. Ressler was still leaning against the window, still surrounded in his two blankets, and unable to get up. He became aware of Red standing beside him, leaning on the seat to talk to him. He focused on the man through his headache that was pounding in his skull, throbbing with every beat of his heart.

"Donald…how are you doing, my friend?" The answer was obvious as Red looked at the grey, sweaty agent and his huge, dark eyes, but Red asked anyway.

_You really don't want me to answer that..._

Ressler didn't answer, but kept looking at Red. So he continued, knowing he at least had the agent's attention. "I've made a few phone calls. And forgive me for overstepping my boundaries, but this was done in your…best interest. It is obvious you are in trouble and need help. I have the resources to provide that help." He let that sink in seeing Resslers eyes narrow a little.

_Of course you do…_

"You will stay at the house I'm currently house sitting." He looked at Liz, "and you too. Bring that hound of yours and get out of that rancid motel for a few days." He didn't wait for Liz to answer and turned back to Ressler. "The house is plenty big enough for you to have privacy, yet not be alone. Because right now, Donald, you cannot go back to your apartment and be alone, understand?" He looked at the agent, waiting for his response.

Ressler looked down, then across at Liz who was pleading with her eyes for him to understand.

_I'm a junkie… I do understand…_

He nodded, and heard Liz let out the breath she'd been holding. He looked back up at Reddington, knowing full well he was letting the man take over for him. In much the same way he'd asked Liz to get him out of the ambulance and surrounding area, letting her lead him, now Red was doing the same on a larger scale. And right now while he couldn't function, he placed himself in their hands. It was a huge step for him, but ironically, he was feeling SO bad he didn't see it. All he felt was a desperate desire to find that deep hole he'd been looking for all evening and finally crawl into it. And he knew with absolute certainty, that Red was the only one who could provide that deep hole and private place to crawl into.

"I've cleared everything with Harold. He knows nothing of this. As far as he's concerned, we're following up on a case I need both of you for. He's not happy, but he'll get over it. So you do not need to concern yourself with work." He told them and Ressler nodded slightly again. The pain in his head was worsening, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open in the light now.

"Splendid. Then let's get you up and out of here Donald." He looked at Liz and they both helped Ressler to his feet. Shakily, he made his way off the jet, still surrounded in his blue blanket as he climbed into the back seat of the shiny, black car that Dembe was now standing beside.

_Red and his 'toys'…_

Feeling Liz sitting beside him, he closed his eyes against the city lights as they drove. Now the lights didn't look beautiful. Now all they did was hurt his eyes and increase the pounding in his head with their brightness.

###

They arrived at the mansion about twenty minutes later, pulling up in front of a large red brick home of immense size. As Dembe parked, Ressler wasn't paying attention as Red told him who lived here, why he wasn't here right now, and why Red had asked to stay here.

_You're house sitting. I get it…_

With an effort, he climbed out of the car, leaning against the door unsteadily. He felt Liz come and loop her arm in his as they entered the house, but he could barely open his eyes now against the pain in his head. He leaned on her, alarming himself with just how unsteady he was feeling. His breath was coming in sharp pants now, and he could barely walk.

 _Liz! …I can't…can't…_ Ressler felt his knees about to give way.

"Red!" she called out to him and he turned back to look at Liz and Ressler.

He quickly took Ressler's other arm as he was about to collapse, steadying the shaking agent, feeling his weight leaning on him as he helped support him. Red led them to a large guest room, and if Ressler had been able to pay attention, he'd have seen it was almost bigger than his entire apartment.

Feeling Ressler swaying even more, they quickly sat him down on a recliner. He leaned back, panting, shaking uncontrollably, the pain in his head reaching unbearable proportions now. Liz crouched down beside him, afraid he was about to pass out.

"He can stay in here. Lizzie, there is a room across the hall for you if you like, or there are rooms in the other wing." Red told her, looking worriedly at the agent.

She nodded to him, not taking her eyes off her shaking, pale partner. Across the hall was perfect. Seeing how much pain Ressler was in, she looked up at Red, but he was already talking.

"Don't worry, I have someone coming who will help him through these symptoms Lizzie. She will be here momentarily." And right on cue, Dembe appeared in the doorway, showing the woman inside.

"Aaahh, Mr Kaplan, come on in." Red motioned to the primly dressed, slender woman to enter. She nodded to Liz as she entered, and then turned her attention to the trembling, sweating man in the recliner.

"Goodness. I'm glad you called me." Her shoes clipped on the tiled floor as she strode to her patient on the recliner.

As Liz stood to step aside to make room for Mr Kaplan, Ressler's arm shot out and he grabbed her hand.

_Don't go._

He startled Liz with how fast he moved. He startled himself too – and caused the pain in his head to increase. But across from them, Red smiled.

Liz turned to look down at him. His shield had dropped. Suddenly, he was back. Looking into her eyes desperately as tears sprang to them, shaking so hard, he spoke to her. "My head…Liz…my head is going to…explode…"

Ressler clung to Liz's hand as Mr Kaplan leaned down to talk to him. "Hello deary. I see you're very much under the weather. I can rectify that for you." She looked away from Ressler, then up to Red.

"He's filthy. Can't we get him cleaned up first?" She said in her clipped, prim voice.

"Kate, the man's had a very hard day. We can get him cleaned up later. For now, please see to the pain that he is very obviously in." Red told her firmly.

Liz could have hugged Red right then.

She squeezed Ressler's hand as he looked up at her in confusion. She leaned down, and heard him whisper "Mr…?" She smiled and nodded, reassuring him. He looked warily at Mr Kaplan as she turned back to him.

_Mr…? I don't get it._

The woman was addressing Ressler now. "How long since you had your last dose? I need to know how long you have been in withdrawal." She was very business like and to the point. Ressler actually welcomed that. He didn't have the time or the energy for chit chat. He didn't even have to think about when he'd had his last two OxyContin.

"11pm last night…" he panted. Liz looked at him, and added, "Plus 6 of these this afternoon…" Liz handed Mr Kaplan the prescription Ressler had filled in Sitka. She looked at them, nodded, then tossed the bottle into her case.

_She took… I had to work…hard…for those…_

"Very good. You're in full withdrawal, though that is very obvious by your appearance. I couldn't give you this drug if you weren't. I have some Buprenorphine here for you, deary. Now, do not swallow it. Place it under your tongue and let it dissolve." She reached into her bag and produced a pill bottle, and handed Ressler one pill, placing it in his left hand – since his right hand was still shakily gripping Liz's hand. She looked at the broken thumb. "I'll clean that up and resplint it for you too."

Ressler looked at the pill in his hand, unable to concentrate on everything the woman was telling him. He didn't know what it was. What was she giving him…? He looked up at Liz, who understood his hesitancy in an instant.

"Explain to him what it is. How it will help him." She asked Mr Kaplan, who seemed surprised that she would even need to do that. "Very well." And she proceeded to explain to Ressler that this medication was used in opiate withdrawal as a substitute for the narcotic, to reduce the symptoms and would calm the shakes and pain. That he would need to be on it for a while, then gradually taper off it.

"I can't get... addicted to this too…?" he asked her. She actually gave him a little straight mouthed smile at that and assured him he would not. "This will help you. It's 6mg, and I will give you another 6mg in one hour. Place it under your tongue and let it dissolve."

"You can trust her Donald, I assure you." Red encouraged.

_Okay… can his day get any weirder…_

With another look at Liz who squeezed his hand in reassurance, Ressler did as he was told, grimacing at the bitter taste in his mouth as the pill dissolved under his tongue.

###

Twenty minutes later, Ressler began to feel the effects of the drug. And it simultaneously relieved and terrified him. He was feeling so much like he did when he was on Oxy he was positive she was not helping him and had only doped him up again.

_Oh my God! She lied to me!_

He stared up at Mr Kaplan, "What did you do? It feels like…what did you give me?! What-"

She interrupted him. "Yes, it feels like the opiates you've been on. I can only assure you that these meds are not your drug of choice. Lean back and let it help your symptoms and I'll give you another one in…" she checked her watch, "forty minutes. By then you will be feeling much better."

He wasn't entirely convinced. He felt like she'd just doped him up again to get him feeling better and the real withdrawal agony would start all over again later. But the other half of him trusted that she might actually be doing what she said and was helping him. But it wasn't her he trusted. He didn't know this woman.

What stunned him was that it was Red he trusted. Implicitly. He glanced across at the man, who was sitting calmly on a couch on the other side of the room.

His shakes began to lessen as he leaned back on the chair again just as she'd told him to. Ten minutes later, the pain was starting to ease in his muscles. His breathing calmer now, he felt better than he had in hours. Even the edge was dropping off his headache.

He gently released Liz's hand as he felt better, looking up at her, almost feeling the need to apologize that he wasn't holding onto her anymore. She simply smiled and squeezed his shoulder. Just like she'd done after they got back from Warsaw. And there was even more meaning in it this time.

More friendship. More concern. More caring.

 _There's more water under the bridge between us now_ … _more...history..._  And he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But the more he thought about it, he decided it was a good thing.

###

After one hour, he couldn't believe how much better he was doing. And when Mr Kaplan gave him his second dose, he didn't hesitate and placed the pill under his tongue. Even the bitter taste didn't bother him quite so much.

The woman leaned down to him again and took his left hand in hers to look at his broken thumb. With the new meds in his system, he was able to let her clean up and resplint his thumb with very little pain, noting how efficiently she did it. He looked at her as she was bent over his hand, and then he looked up at Liz, raising his eyebrows. Liz smiled at him. Mr Kaplan was an enigma, as Ressler was finding out first hand.

All done with his hand, Mr Kaplan was in front of him again, looking into his eyes and studying him. "Very good. You're responding well." She stood up after closing up her bag. "In another 30 minutes or so you'll be feeling well enough to get up and shower. Which I suggest you do as..."

"Kate…" said Red, and Mr Kaplan looked briefly at him and nodded.

She faced Ressler again. "I will be back in the morning and give you another dose. In the meantime, get as much rest as you can. You may be feeling better, but you still need rest." She picked up her bag and turned to leave, her heels clicking on the floor.

"Thank you." Ressler told her, and she turned back to him. "You are most welcome, deary." And she smiled a very brief, businesslike smile and then left the room, with Red showing her out.

###

Apparently the person whom Red was house sitting from was about the same size as Ressler, as he found out when Red opened the closet to reveal clothes that would fit him.

"So, to keep Mr Kaplan happy, go get cleaned up Donald." Red smiled as he and Liz left the room, letting Ressler get up to take a shower.

He stood under the warm water scrubbing the grime off him, which was a little more difficult with a broken thumb. Mr Kaplan had been right, he was filthy.  _But then sweating and running through a forest will do that… Stabbing a giant and getting his blood all over you will do that…_  After washing his hair, he got done and stepped out into the bathroom. Out of habit, he was drawn to the mirror, almost afraid to look. But when he did, he was surprised. His eyes were still half dilated and he looked very pale and tired, but on the whole he was much better than he'd expected.

He found some track pants and a t-shirt and got dressed. Entering the bedroom he was about to sit in the recliner again when there was a knock at the door.

"Ress, can I come in?" called Liz.

He walked over and opened the door and both of them paused. She almost felt like saying "I didn't know where else to go" and he almost heard it. She smiled at the unspoken memory between them as he stepped aside to let her in. Just like he had done on that night.

"You look more like yourself." She said, noting his clean shaven face and combed back hair. He nodded, standing by the half open door.

"I know you're tired and need rest…but I wanted to check in with you before you turned in for the night…" She looked up at him, seeing that he really was doing so much better. She sent a silent thanks to Mr Kaplan for that.

As Ressler went to close the door, he saw something small, brown and decidedly scruffy run into the room. He stepped back, surprised.

"Hudson! I told you to stay!" Liz looked up at Ressler in apology as her dog pranced in front of her. "Sorry! Let me put him up."

But Hudson had other ideas. As Ressler headed for the recliner, really feeling the need to sit down again, the little dog followed him. He looked at it, seeing the beady little eyes and excited expression on the animal. "Hey there, little dude. I think your mom wants you to go with her…"

Liz stopped and smiled. She'd never heard that soft tone from her partner before as he spoke to her dog - her dog who was now apparently ignoring her in favor of her partner. As Ressler dropped tiredly into the recliner, the dog sat at his feet, looking up at him in adoration.

Ressler looked across at Liz. "I seem to have a fan."

"Apparently so!" She looked at Ressler then, seeing how tired he was. His shakes had gone and he was no longer sweating, but he was still pale and exhausted. They could talk later. Right now he needed rest. "Why don't you get in bed and I'll let you get some sleep." She encouraged him.

He nodded, not even arguing with her and hauled himself out of the recliner. He hesitated a moment before he pulled the blankets down, then suddenly didn't mind that Liz was right there as he climbed into the bed. He plumped up his pillows and lay on his side, looking across at her. He then looked down at her dog, who was now worshiping him from below the bed, tail wagging as his little eyes shone up at him.

Ressler suddenly grinned at the little dog, who was now standing on his hind legs and leaning on the bed. And he realized that in this entire day, this funny little dog had been the only one who had managed to put a smile on his face.

And it felt good.

His day had been terrible.  _Understatement._  It had been a living nightmare. It had been filled with pain, helplessness, desperation and… _fear_. He had needed to lean on others to get him through it. He looked up at Liz again.

_I needed to lean on her…and Red too..._

"Liz…I'm sorry. About…all this…" he told her tiredly, as she came and stood by him.

"I know, and it will be okay. We'll get through this." She told him kindly.

_We… she said 'we'll get through this…'_

He smiled at her, and felt his eyes drooping. She went and turned the light off in the room, and was about to leave.

"…stay…" he told her sleepily, and she turned and headed back to the recliner and sat down near him. Hudson was no longer on the floor. And when she looked to see where he'd gone, she saw him on the bed, approaching Ressler from the other side, having jumped up on a chair to get on the bed. The little dog moved around him, and lay down contentedly in front of Ressler, leaning against him.

And Liz smiled as Ressler, more asleep than awake, reached out and held her dog gently with his hand, his broken thumb nestled in the little dog's coat.


	10. Hotel Reddington

_So yeah, my pre-empting on the previous chapter was a bit off the mark, but I SOO wanted to see Ressler and Mr Kaplan together so I had to take that risk that it may not fit with the direction the show went! So this is just a 'bridge' chapter to fit with what I wrote in Chapter 9 to lead into what we saw in Episode 2x07 which will be in my next chapter. So in that sense it's entirely outside the show, but leading into writing about that awesome 'hint of Keenler' episode we got this week! So bear with me on this chapter, as it's really just 'filler'._

* * *

When Ressler woke up the morning after his… _little adventure in Sitka, Alaska_ …he wasn't sure what was going on for a moment. There was something leaning on him. Something warm and furry and glancing down he saw the little scruffy dog against him. And when he lifted his gaze he saw Liz asleep in the recliner, buried under a blanket. And as he focused more around the room, it all came back to him.

_Aaahh, yeah… Hotel Reddington._

As he moved to get up, he woke the dog who looked at him in a daze, appearing to get his bearings. He spoke softly to the animal. "Yeah…you and me both, little dude... Confusing night…"

He climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Liz and padded over to the bathroom, noticing how… _raw_ …his body felt. Like it had gone 12 rounds in the ring with a prize fighter - and lost miserably. His thumb was aching, the throbbing having dropped to a much more tolerable level though.  _Or maybe that's the new 'dope but not dope' pills I'm on…_ Drawn to the mirror, he was relieved to see blue eyes this morning, albeit a little bloodshot. And a little color in his face.  _Always a good sign…_

As he came out of the bathroom, glancing at Liz and seeing she was still asleep, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, he found Mr Kaplan out there, looking like she'd just stepped out of a Mary Poppins movie with her coat, bag and umbrella.

"Good morning deary. May I come in?" He hesitated a moment looking at her, then remembered his manners and stepped aside to let her in. She entered the room and then stopped when she saw Hudson at his feet.

"I see." She said primly. He hadn't even noticed the dog was there, wagging its tail and in full adoration mode looking up at him.

_I must smell like dog chum..._

Mr Kaplan ignored Hudson and turned back to Ressler. "How are you feeling?" She studied his face as she asked, then continued before he could even answer with his standard 'I'm fine' response. "Though I can see your eyes are no longer dilated. And you look more rested. Well done. I have another dose for you here."

Leaning down to her bag, she retrieved a pill bottle then handed one small pill to Ressler. He held it in his right hand, looking at it then clenched it in his fist and looked back at her.

_Great. I'm replacing one habit with another._

"Remember, place it under your tongue and let it dissolve." She instructed, and he reluctantly did as she said, not happy with where this was going.

###

After Mr Kaplan had left, he began hunting up some different clothes to wear and was surprised to find his own clothes hanging in the closet, clean and pressed _. Can't complain about the service at Hotel Red…_  He also found the blue blanket he'd had around him, freshly folded and clean. He sighed as memories flooded back of him sitting in that blanket. Sitting in the ambulance…and Liz approaching him with the pills.

_Don't go there._

He exhaled heavily and looked down, seeing Hudson beside him looking expectantly up at him. "You want this…?" he softly asked the dog, "Well you can have it…" then placed the blanket on the floor by the bed. He smiled as Hudson immediately rearranged it then curled up on it. "Yeah, I agree, that's a much better use for it."

He took a quick shower and after dressing in the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror – and felt sick. Wearing the same clothes he'd worn in Sitka with all that had happened to him there was surreal.  _They're just clothes. Get over it._ Telling himself that, he walked back into the bedroom to find Liz awake and folding up the blanket she'd used.

"You okay…?" she asked, and he hesitated a second before nodding.

"Yeah, just… nothing." He said, shaking it off.

"You feel like breakfast? Dembe just came by and said it's ready." She asked him, and smiled at his reaction as he screwed up his face and groaned at that.

"Just try, okay?" she prompted and he nodded, then followed her out of the room, hoping like hell he'd keep his breakfast down.

###

When Mr Kaplan knocked on his door the following morning, he let her in but he had questions ready. He'd sat up half the night unable to sleep and kept returning to the same conclusion. Taking pills to avoid taking pills was not going to cut it. He was done with that. He needed to stop… _flopping about_ … and start being useful again. He needed to get back on his game.

Mr Kaplan knew none of that. She reached into her bag to retrieve his dose and gave him one pill. He took it from her, but did not place it in his mouth.

"I will leave the medication with Raymond, and he can choose how he wishes to dispense it to you each day." She told him, all businesslike this morning.

_Yeah…about that…_

"How long?" He asked her, wanting to know more about this medication. He'd been far too out of it the first night to really listen to her. "Because I feel like I'm just replacing one addiction with another, and…"

"A few weeks, maybe a few months. Until you will no longer feel the cravings to take more of your drug of choice and can safely taper off these." She answered sharply, interrupting him.

"What happens if I don't take them, now that I've…"  _Totally wigged out and gone cold turkey…_

Again, she interrupted. "I would not advise that. You will need the assistance this medication gives you to help ease the cravings your brain will still have. You may feel better physically, but your brain will still crave the opiates."

He looked down at the woman silently. In the clear light of day he was fully aware it was these new meds that were making him feel better, but he couldn't take pills each day to stop him taking his drug. And even worse, now he'd need to go to his supplier …Red…to get them. That was too junkie-like for him. Too…street thug…

_I'm still on the pill train…and I'm getting it off it right now._

She could see where he was going with this, and sighed. "I really would not advise an addict to come off these and try and do this themselves."

_I need to handle this myself._

He nodded, not liking what he was hearing, but still looked at her squarely. "I understand. But I will keep this pill and if I need it I will take it and resume this treatment."

_I am damn well going to do this without more drugs._

She looked at him, about to say something, then closed her mouth and grimaced as she spoke under her breath. "As obstinate as Raymond said you were."

"Thank you." He told her, giving her his half smile. Because right now, he needed to be obstinate. Right now he needed to be as stubborn as he could be – with himself.

And in reply, she gave him a look that he couldn't help but feel Liz would have been proud of (and would likely steal for her own collection). Shaking her head, she picked up her bag and moved to the door, which he opened for her.

He looked at the small woman. "I do thank you for helping me though. Honestly, I do." He told her quietly as she left, and she surprised him by turning back and placing her small hand on his chest. "You be careful, deary."

And she left, leaving him silently watching her walk away, her heels clipping on the tiled floor of the hallway.

###

As he stood in the open doorway, he looked across at Liz's room, then went and knocked on her door. Standing in the hallway he looked up and down it, wondering how anyone needed a house as big as this. And how the hell did Red end up house sitting places like this? Apparently everyone the man knew was ridiculously wealthy or… He suddenly decided the less he knew about Red's living arrangements, the better.

Liz opened the door and smiled at him, letting him in. Entering her room, he was greeted by a little brown, scruffy streak that then shadowed his every move.

"Hey, little dude." He said softly to the dog at his feet

"Seriously, what have you done to my dog?" she grinned, looking at how her dog abandoned her the second he saw Ressler.

"What can I say, I have a magnetic personality." He deadpanned, then followed her out to the balcony.

She resumed sitting at the table while she poured him a coffee as he sat down across from her. The balcony overlooked the back of the house, over the immense, perfectly manicured gardens.

He turned to her, sipping his coffee, which was thankfully sitting just fine on his stomach. "Liz, we need to get back to work. This…vacation, whatever.. is fine in theory, but we need to get back in." He looked at her over the rim of his cup. "I need to get back." he emphasized.

"Are you ready for that though?" she asked him, looking him up and down, assessing him. "You've had a rough time of it Ress…in so many ways. Why not give yourself a day or two more?" Her blue eyes looked into his and while they were no longer dark pools of despair, they were not his normal calm, cool blue. The eyes are the windows to the soul, she thought, and right now, his soul is battered and bruised…

"Listen, I was working before and feeling way worse than I do right now. Call Cooper and tell him our 'job' with Red is over and we're heading back later today." He wasn't good at just sitting around. And as if to prove that point, he stood and slowly paced around the large balcony, coffee cup in hand.

"Okay, if you're sure, I'll call him." She answered, hoping that was the right decision.

He approached her and leaned on the brick balustrade, putting his coffee cup beside him. She saw him struggle with something else before he began to speak.

"I told Mr Kaplan that I wasn't going to take her pills anymore…" He looked at her as she sighed and shook her head. "I know Liz, but I need to do this on my own. I need to know that I am the one who overcomes this." He ran his hand across the back of his neck, and stood up, looking out over the gardens.

"I understand that, but you just said you want to return to work. And what happens when the effect of these pills in your system wears off? Because you know it will, and you will be extremely vulnerable at that point." She said worriedly, picking up her coffee cup and coming to lean on the balcony beside him.

He looked sideways at her, seeing her turn to meet his eyes. "Then we'll find out how strong I really am, won't we?" He told her, and she shook her head in concern again.

"I don't like this at all. If you're not going to take Mr Kaplan's…rehab…then you're going to need help in another way. Like Dr… oh don't look at me like that..." He had rolled his eyes at her and grimaced, knowing full well she was going to say 'Dr Friedman'.

"I'm not doing that Liz. You know that. I have zero confidence in that woman to help me." He turned away, leaning his back on the balustrade again, sighing heavily. "Besides, I don't think she likes me." He added, trying to lighten up a little.

"I can't imagine why, you turn and run every time you see her." She smiled, knowing what he was doing as he turned and leaned his elbows on the balustrade again, leaning comfortably beside her.

"Oh, I'm not that bad, Liz." He smiled, looking down at the gardens. Below them they spotted Red coming out of the house, newspaper and cup of coffee in hand. But not in a mug like their coffees. His was in a civilized cup and saucer. As he sat at the outside table, he saw the two of them on the second floor balcony above him, and nodded in greeting before opening his newspaper.

Neither of them caught the small smile that crept across Red's features when he saw Donald looking much better this morning, and in company with Liz.

Ressler turned back to Liz. "So how long are we going to stay here…at Hotel Reddington? Because this is…kinda weird..."

_And yet it also feels…safe..._

Out of his own environment, this break was giving him time to take stock, to settle down and rethink things and contemplate where he went from here. Because Red was right about one thing. The thought of returning to his empty apartment alone, with all is memories and temptations was filling him with unease.

"I don't think he set a time frame. He's letting you decide that." She told him kindly, smiling at him.

"Okay, well I will need to get some clothes and stuff from my apartment though ready for work today…" He looked down, his eyes darting. He was fine with the idea of returning to work. It had always been where his heart lay. Where he needed to be to …escape… It was his apartment that he had problems in.

She caught the look and put her hand on his arm. "Then I will come with you while you do that, so you won't be alone there."

 _She nailed it… of course she did…_ He looked at her, and she caught the brief flicker of relief in his eyes.

"Thank you…" He looked ruefully at her. "For this, and for…Sitka…" He sighed and looked across at the gardens, trying not to think about what had happened to him in Alaska.

The memory of how broken he was in the back of the ambulance and the flight back came flooding back to her as she stood beside him with her hand on his arm. He wasn't trembling anymore. Wasn't shaking or cramping, as the physical need had worn off. But she was concerned. He was still an addict. The compulsion would still be there when Mr Kaplan's meds wore off.

And the crash would come, she knew that. He still needed help, even though he wanted to do it his way and overcome this by himself. But there was no way she was letting him do this on his own like he thought. She'd make it appear to him that he was doing it by himself – but she'd stand in the wings, watching and waiting.

Ready to catch him if he fell.


	11. Under Control

_I loved Episode 2x07 – we finally got the first real glimpse of Keenler! But before I get to that wonderful scene with them fleeing the hospital, I wanted to set the scene with what I think 'should' have happened (or at least what I can imagine happened) when Ressler returned to work after Sitka and Red's 'mission'._

* * *

Ressler estimated they had been back in the Post Office 43 seconds before Cooper appeared on the railing above them, calling both of them to his office.

_Here we go…_

Each carrying the bag they'd taken to Alaska, Liz called up to their boss. "Yes sir, we'll just put our gear up and…" she didn't get to finish her sentence.

"Now, Agent Keen. Bring your bags with you." Cooper insisted before turning on his cane and walking back to his office.

They shared a glance, before Liz stepped onto the stairs with Ressler close behind. Entering Cooper's office, he motioned to them to sit, then began before they'd barely got settled.

"I trust your…mission…with Reddington was successful?" He said it as a statement more than a question. Ressler resisted the urge to glance at Liz. Liz did likewise and kept her eyes on Cooper.

"Yes sir." They said in unison, which suddenly struck Ressler as funny and for a second he suppressed the urge to smile at their joint effort to appear 'normal' in front of their boss.

_No, that didn't look suspicious. Not at all._

Cooper was no fool. He put his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair, looking at his two subordinates. "Reddington made it clear that this was something outside the Bureau that he required your services on. He reminded me…in no uncertain terms…that this was to be expected under the terms of his…alliance…with us from time to time." He looked at each of them, seeing no reaction and leaned forward. "Do either of you care to share what went down on this…mission?"

"No sir." They both chimed in together, and this time Ressler was so sure he was going to smile that he quickly squeezed his broken thumb to stop himself. And he really wasn't sure why he found it humorous.

_Must be the 'dope that's not dope'._

Cooper regarded each of them, narrowing his eyes. "I see. Then I suggest you get back to work." Each of them rose quickly – too quickly – from their chairs and grabbed their bags.

"Agent Ressler. A moment please." said Cooper as he and Liz turned to leave the Assistant Director's office.

Their backs to their boss, Ressler froze for a second as he shot a side glance at Liz. She looked at him a split second, then left the Directors office. Ressler turned back to his boss, his face the expressionless mask that he'd perfected. The one he could paint on, given a second or two, that hid the whirling emotions underneath.

"Sir?" he asked Cooper, as his boss motioned for him to take a seat again.

"Agent Ressler, something has been brought to my attention, that I would like to discuss with you."

_Oh my God…_

"Sir?" he repeated, dreading what was coming next.

_He knows…_

"As an FBI agent, there are times that stress in the field can get…overwhelming, shall we say. We each have different ways of dealing with it." Said Cooper, leaning back in his chair as he looked at Ressler.

_Aaahh, hell…_

He sat silently in front of his boss, not willing to offer anything that would dig his own grave just yet.

"And sometimes we need help dealing with those situations, wouldn't you agree?" said Cooper, studying his agent sitting silently in front of him.

_I'm screwed..._

"Perhaps…" offered Ressler, starting to look for that hole that he could crawl into again.

_He knows I've been…using._

Cooper leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his desk and looked closely at his lead agent. Ressler kept his mask firmly in place, but was now being betrayed by the sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Agent Ressler, it has come to my attention that you may have had a problem in Alaska." Said Cooper, looking at him pointedly.

 _Shit._  He looked silently at his boss.

Cooper could see that Ressler wasn't going to give him anything, so plowed on. "You are aware that the Bureau has resources available to agents who sometimes have… problems."

_You mean agents who wig out and break their own thumbs? We have resources for THAT?_

"I am aware of that, sir." He replied, amazed at how even his voice was while his brain was screaming  _he knows you're a freaking addict!_

'Even the strongest agents, such as yourself can get overwhelmed at times, and I want you to know that there is no…shame… in becoming compromised after what you went through." Cooper told him kindly.

Ressler sat still as a rock, almost to the point he wasn't breathing.  _I need to tell him…be up front with it. Maybe that will make it go easier…_

"Sir…yes, I was compromised… I am-" he started, when Cooper held up his hand and interrupted.

"I understand from another agent on scene that you were quite distressed after your ordeal. I have always known you to be calm under fire. Almost to the point of being emotionless, in fact. So it does concern me a little that you were so affected by this case that it reduced you to…tears."

 _Wait. What?_  Ressler stared at his boss.

_So we're NOT talking about me being a junkie…?!_

His feeling of discomfort and confusion was genuine, as he looked down, which helped reinforce Cooper's case immensely.

"Don..." said Cooper, in a tone that brought Ressler's head up warily.

_Don? Oh... It's an 'Elizabeth' conversation…_

"I know you have had a very difficult time since losing your fiancé. I just want to remind you that Dr Friedman is always available for appointments, and to reassure you that my door is always open…if you would rather just…talk."

_Um…_

Ressler was squirming a little under one of the 'rules of manhood' – that manly men don't talk about being emotional in the field - or any place else for that matter. But he also felt incredibly relieved.  _Far better to be thought of as being 'emotional' than a junkie…_

Seizing his chance to end the conversation, he nodded and put on the best grateful face he could muster. "Thank you, sir… I'll… keep that in mind."

_Now let me get the hell out of here._

"Very well. Then I'll let you get back to it then." Said Cooper, dismissing him with a small smile and a nod. Ressler stood, reached down for his overnight bag and briskly walked out the office, trying not to exhale until Cooper's door was closed. He went down the stairs, his mind reeling.

_The good news is he doesn't know I'm an addict._

_The bad news is he thinks I'm a cry baby._

_Shit._

By the time he reached his and Keen's office, he was almost breathing normally again after the completely weird male bonding experience he'd just gone through with his boss.

"What did he say…? Does Cooper know?" Liz asked worriedly, coming to sit on his desk.

"No...I mean, not the…complete details…" Was all he told her, before Aram quietly knocked on their door. Ressler turned to face him, noting the usual nervous stance.

"Hey guys, sorry, just wanted to say welcome back, and I'm glad to see you're okay Agent Ressler, after the whole…um, hunting…thing." Said Aram, before nodding and quickly smiling at them before heading back to his desk.

Ressler turned back to his desk, swiveling slowly in his chair and saw Liz smiling him.

"What?" he asked her.

"Normal day at the office. Cooper being a bear, Aram nervous around you, and Red just texted me needing to meet. Welcome back." She grinned at him.

He smiled as she left the office, then turned on his computer. There was nothing normal with how he was feeling though, as he'd just realized that Mr Kaplan's pills were now well on their way to wearing off.

###

Keen still wasn't back two hours later. He didn't know where she was, apart from being on one of those many errands she seemed to run of late. He wasn't really paying that much attention though. After she'd been gone 30 minutes, he'd called his doctor and explained about a broken thumb he'd sustained while on a case.

And had a prescription for pain meds called in to his pharmacy.

_I don't need them. It's just in case…_

And in the following ninety minutes, he'd been sitting at his desk with his own personal ice bucket challenge, except he was pouring bucketfuls of self loathing down on himself. While the pills weren't technically in his possession, they may as well have been in his right pocket, or in his desk drawer.

Because he couldn't focus on anything else.

_I'm not taking them though. It's just in case…_

So he kept telling himself, as he tried to concentrate on the case files on his desk. He was signing reports, reading and rereading the same pages again, as his mind kept wandering. Mr Kaplan had been right about that. His brain was still craving them, even though his body was begrudgingly tolerating this new turn of events and had given up begging for now.

As he walked back to their office with his third cup of coffee that morning while trying to appease his brain with caffeine (which he knew was never going to happen), he saw Liz walking from the elevator. He stopped and waited for her, then walked with her as she told him about her meeting with Red.

Once they were back in their office she looked at him, arching her eyebrows. "You okay?" she asked him across the desk. He nodded to her then, giving her his 'I'm amazing' smile which apparently satisfied her for the time being.

Or so he hoped.

###

And everything was going great. He had it all under control. Until he left work that afternoon and stopped off at the Hawthorne Pharmacy and refilled his prescription. The imagined neon sign on his back announcing his junkie status to the world was glowing brightly.

Sitting in the car at the Pharmacy for what felt like forever, he looked at the bottle of pills in his hand. He opened the lid, looked at them – dropped two pills out onto his hand – looked at them some more - then quickly returned them to the bottle and replaced the lid.

_Damn it._

And after sitting there for another 5 minutes, opening and closing the bottle a few times, he shoved them in the glove box and exhaled deeply, biting his bottom lip.

_To hell with this._

Starting the car, he tried to forget about the pills and headed back to Hotel Reddington. And he found the strangest thing…in a different environment, away from the office and his apartment, he didn't think about them quite as much.

And by the time he headed for bed, he took some small pleasure in the fact that even after all that, he still hadn't taken any pills today.

He had it all under control.

And hoped like hell he could repeat that tomorrow.


	12. Terrifying Prospect

_Okay, the 'escape from the hospital scene' was honestly one of my favourite sequences we've ever seen in the show! So of course, I had to write it. And I know that I used a lot of it directly from what we saw (sorry!), but I did add bits into it all the way through it, for those parts where we left them while we saw what Red and Samar were doing. It was such an adorable scene, the way Ressler and Liz literally leaned all over each other, with their arms around each other. Loved it!_

_But then we got a very special scene at the end of the show. Loved it just as much. The 'prospect of having to live without me must've been terrifying' scene. Wow. Thank you writers!_

* * *

Two mornings later, following the briefing on Professor Collins, Liz followed him to their office telling him they needed to talk. He'd felt her looking at him for two days now. And each time he told her he was fine, and doing okay. And in one sense, he wasn't lying and had really made sure she saw that part of him. He hadn't taken any pills. The urge was overwhelming, but he'd resisted. And truth be told, he was allowing himself to feel just a little proud of that accomplishment.

Apart from one… minor detail…

_I have a bottle of pills at the back of my desk drawer…_

He'd asked himself ' _why?_ ' a dozen times an hour, but still couldn't answer that. All he knew was that he wasn't taking them, and while extremely uncomfortable, he was handling it as best he could. He was getting off the pill train, one way or another. So when Liz told him they needed to talk, he groaned inwardly, feeling the guilt flare to the surface.

Because his first thought was that she knew what was in his desk drawer.

When she asked him when was the last time he'd used, he was truthful when he told her it had been almost a week and not since Sitka, running his hand across the back of his neck in frustration. But he couldn't hide the fact he was struggling from her. And for a moment, he didn't know what she was going to do.

"What are you gonna do, Keen? Tell Cooper I'm an addict?" he asked her worriedly, sighing heavily.

"I want you to get help…" She told him, knowing he was struggling each day. And while the fact he was struggling told her he probably wasn't taking pills, she was still concerned for him.

With a troubled yet determined look in his eyes, he faced her. "And I'm telling you, I can kick this on my own, and if I can't, hell, I'll walk into Cooper's office myself. I got no problem with that." He left her then, walking into their office to sit at his desk. And all he could focus on was the drawer beside him that held the bottle of pills.

Her cellphone vibrated, telling her she needed to go, but not before she glanced into their office, seeing the tension in her partner's shoulders as he sat at his desk. Slipping her phone in her pocket she walked to him and leaned on his desk. He didn't look up at her.

"I'm sorry. But you know I'm just concerned about you, right?" she told him softly

He nodded. He knew that. "It's fine." He told her, glancing up at her and giving her a small smile before returning his attention back to his computer. A computer she knew he wasn't focused on right now.

"I gotta go, Red just texted." She lied, knowing she needed to head to the ship again. "We'll talk when I get back, if you like." She said, receiving a silent nod from her partner. Giving him a worried smile, she patted his shoulder then left the office, heading for the elevator.

And as she left, Ressler gave up looking at his computer, leaned back in his chair and willed himself not to open the drawer where his pills where. And closing his eyes, simultaneously berating and encouraging himself, he found himself in oh-so-familiar territory - sitting at his desk with his pills screaming at him to open the drawer.

But just like he'd been able to do all week, he again succeeded in ignoring them.

And for a moment, despite the screaming in his brain, he felt good about that.

###

Three hours later, he really could have done with one of those pills. Hanging upside down in the demolished SUV, pain was shooting through his head. Bleeding from his nose, with his head pounding from multiple impacts as the Suburban had rolled over and over, he was aware of Liz beside him and heard her groan as she too hung upside down. Unable to move or reach for her, darkness invaded the edges of his vision as he closed his eyes, struggling to remain conscious. But he quickly lost that battle and the voices outside receded as everything faded to black.

For a while, he rested in that familiar blackness. He'd been here too many times to count and it had become a place of solitude. Somewhere to take a welcome time out. Snippets of voices and sounds reached him and he became aware he was no longer hanging upside down in the vehicle, but lying in a bed. And as the sounds became clearer, he recognized the familiar beep and whir of hospital monitors in the distance.

And then things started to feel better. So much better. As the blackness dropped a little and he regained consciousness, he slept, becoming aware of something he'd missed feeling for days. His body was reacting to the drugs they were pumping into him. It was enjoying this. And despite the pain in his head, he relaxed and drifted off, letting his body rest as the meds ran through him.

At one point he heard Liz, or thought he did, saying his name and then something about Radiology. But then it all faded away again and he slept on.

And sometime later, in the midst of that calm rest with hospital sounds and voices just out of reach beyond his sleep, he was suddenly aware of hands on his face and someone calling to him.

"Ressler! Ressler!"

_Le me slee…_

"Ressler!" The hands were patting his face more urgently now, and he opened his eyes, blinking in the light, confused to find Liz right in front of him.

 _Wha…?_ He tried to pull his head away, unsure of why she was here.

"Ressler! Can you hear me? We gotta get the hell out of here!" She told him urgently as he tried to focus on her. The room was spinning though, and he quickly shut his eyes.

_What…?_

"Liz…?" He opened his eyes again and looked at her dizzily, seeing double as the room swam. "…why are there two of …?"

She leaned into his face, holding his cheeks in her hands. "Concentrate. We are in trouble. I don't know where we are, but we need to leave now. Understand?"

He didn't understand, but he heard the urgency in her voice. And despite the fact he couldn't focus his eyes on her  _…on the two of them…_  he nodded, grimacing at the pain that brought his head and tried to rise. Tried to do as she told him, but couldn't manage to just yet. His brain was far too foggy.

"..kay…help me up…"

As she hauled him up into a sitting position, the room swam in front of his eyes.

"Can you stand?" she asked him worriedly, looking from him to the door, knowing they'd be in here very soon when their 'nurse' didn't show back up. And if Ressler couldn't stand she'd need to find a wheelchair very quickly.

He looked at her face inches from his as she supported him, and didn't know if he could stand or not. "We'll find out…" he answered and swung his legs over the side of the bed. And as he did so, he noticed something.

_Liz…why are you in your underwear….oh…I guess I am too…_

And then he felt her urging him to stand and he leaned on her heavily as she helped him out of bed. "…you smell nice…" he whispered as she grabbed him to stop him falling, and then she gave him 'the look', but smiled while doing so. He was loopy, she knew that.

_Oh, did I say that out loud…_

The room lurched alarmingly as he stood, swaying as he stood up with her help.

_Damn, those are good meds..._

"Okay… I'm standing…" he whispered, leaning on her heavily, gulping in air and willing his vision to clear. "Clothes…?"

Propping him up against the bed, she found his clothes and tossed them on the bed to him, then ran and got her own clothes from her side of the room. Heading back to him, she quickly threw her jeans on as she stood beside him, ready to grab him if he fell, especially with the way he was leaning over.

"…what happened…?" He asked her and she quickly explained how they'd been brought here and it was all an elaborate con and they were definitely not at Bethesda Hospital.

She looked at him, realizing they were never going to get out of here if she didn't keep helping him stand straight so he could get dressed. "They told me I had fractured my arm," she explained, then showed him the two puncture wounds. "But all they'd done was put nails in my arm then covered it up in a cast."

His head was pounding. "…I think they also put nails in my head…" He told her, his face close to hers, propped up against her. And despite the urgency of their situation she actually smiled at him. "There are no nails in your head, Ress." she told him, while still wishing like hell he'd hurry up and get dressed.

He wasn't convinced, not with the way his heartbeat was throbbing through his head, but took her word for it.

Ressler had done pretty good getting his pants back on. No mean feat while propping himself up against Liz and the bed. But now feeling like he had three heads and way more arms than he remembered, he was finding it difficult to put his t-shirt on. And as he stood there trying to figure out which armhole went where, still seeing double, they heard the squelch of a radio outside the room.

"They're coming!" she whispered, and ran to the door, armed only with the phone she'd grabbed. As the man entered with his gun pointed at Ressler, she slammed the phone down onto his arm, then knocked him out.

Ressler was impressed. He tried to focus on the guy lying on the floor as Liz retrieved the weapon.  _Two Liz's are better than one, apparently._  And then she was by his side again, after he'd finally figured out his t-shirt. Putting his arm over her shoulder he leaned on her as she led him out of the room, knowing he'd fall flat on his face if he had to put one foot in front of the other by himself.

As they entered the hallway, seeing no one in sight, they had to guess which way the exit was. He leaned heavily on her, gasping as she led him down the hallway. The pain in his head increased as they moved and he clutched her as a strong dizzy spell overtook him.

"…what did they give me…?" he whispered, and she quickly answered, "Sedatives. I have no idea what sort though." She said, while looking backward to see if anyone was following, urging him to try and move faster.

 _Strong sedatives…but good…_   _Oh for God's sake. Stop being a junkie for a few minutes._

But the junkie in him had realized something. Had realized that there was FINALLY something good to come of him being an addict. The sedatives they'd given him should have knocked him out completely for hours. Yet with his high tolerance to opiates, all they'd done was made him very sleepy and dizzy.

_Score another one for the Oxy team…_

"This way, come on Ress." She encouraged dragging him out of his thoughts, feeling him drooping against her as she hauled him along.

"I'm good…I'm good…" he whispered, his body leaning on her as she held his left arm over her shoulder.  _Trying hard here Liz…_

"…are you sure they didn't put nails in my head…?" He asked her, widening his eyes, trying to focus again. While the dizziness was easing, his vision was still swimming.

She ignored his question, worriedly looking behind her. "We need to hurry." She dragged him faster now, hearing commotion behind them now. As they rounded another corner he reached up to pull the bloody dressing off to check his head, and was alarmed to discover that his head wound was just as fake as Liz's broken arm –  _and no nails..._

 _Okay, so it's 'just' a headache…_ He recalled his head being slammed into the door post as the vehicle rolled, and wasn't really surprised then.

"There…" he pointed, seeing the Exit and she led him to it. And as they went through the doors and into the hallway, they slowed and looked up in astonishment. The hallway ended, opening up to a large brick floor of an abandoned warehouse. They weren't in Bethesda. They weren't even in a real hospital. It was all an elaborate hoax.

_What the…?_

He held onto the hand rail as Liz let go of him, walking out into the warehouse with the wooden walls of the 'hospital' behind her. They heard voices, and Liz turned quickly back to him, again putting her arm around his shoulder as they fled the area.

"Move it! Run!"

_Run…? I'll give it my best shot…_

The good news was, he could now stand and walk without falling over. The bad news was, he really couldn't run well. So when he couldn't keep up, trying to both run and keep his balance, she reached back and grabbed his arm, dragging him behind her.

He was feeling a little steadier now and not quite so dizzy when they entered another area of the warehouse, with dark brick walls and narrower passageways. Hearing voices ahead of them now, they ducked for cover in a shallow alcove.

He leaned on the wall as she stood pressed up against him, trying to flatten themselves out of view behind the brick column. He was feeling better by the minute, and even though his headache was alive and well, his vision was finally clearing.

_Only one Liz now…_

"Want me to take the gun?" he whispered to her.

She gave him the look. "You'd end up shooting me!" she hissed back at him, then urged him to be quiet.

_Yes mom…_

The men were closer now, and all they needed to do was get by those two guys and they'd be out. She peered around, nodded to him, and they quickly made their way to the next alcove. They assumed the same positions, him against the wall and her in front of him, gun at the ready.

And as he stood there looking down at her, he suddenly remembered a year ago and telling her that she didn't belong in the field. And now here she was with gun drawn, having just got him out of a situation he'd have likely been killed in …  _and she's_   _protecting me…and I'm trusting her to protect me…_

_You've come a long way Liz._

_Or maybe I have._

And then the gunman was there and Liz sprang at him, knocking him to the ground. Ressler moved out of the alcove as the guy went down, suddenly seeing the other gunman behind them. He whirled, and ignoring the pain in his head, saw Samar with her weapon raised on the gunman.

In a split second, he saw Liz was right in both their lines of fire.

"Keen!" He grabbed her, pulling her back into him as he slammed against the wall, holding her out of the way of the gunshot as Samar took down the gunman.

"Oh God…" she breathed, and held his arm, panting.

As Samar approached he grabbed Liz's shoulders, guiding her out to the waiting FBI vehicles. Outside in the sun, squinting at the bright light that was making his headache scream, he faced her.

"You alright?"

She nodded to him, and then Samar was there, opening the back door to the SUV for them. He guided Liz inside, then climbed in beside her, leaning back on the seat, his head pounding.

She looked up at him and whispered, unheard by Samar climbing in the passenger seat. "Thanks partner."

"You too." He replied, and he smiled down at her as they leaned together out of choice this time.

###

A few hours later, it was night and Ressler sat in their office, keeping the lights low. He'd told Liz he would catch up with her, yet he hadn't moved. Hadn't gone out to the river where they'd found the body Cooper had assumed was the Scimitar. He hadn't made any move to go anywhere and was still twirling the pen in his hands, like he'd been when Liz had entered their office an hour ago.

The pills sat in the drawer beside him, and he'd lost count of how many times he'd opened it to peek in at them, then closed the drawer quickly. And when he finally got tired of opening and closing it he had taken the pills out and looked at them for a while - a long while - and had then quickly put them in his right pocket.

 _Dammit._  His right pocket was his 'ease of access' position for his pills. They had just moved up in the ranks of him needing them near.

And he could hardly breathe at the thought of that.

He hadn't answered Liz's question.  _"What about that? Is that going to be a problem?"_

And in his defense, he couldn't exactly answer her with Cooper poking his head in their office right at that moment. And so Liz had left to go ID the body from the river, leaving that hanging between them.

And in the ensuing hour, he'd been trying to answer her question. And with the pills now in his pocket – that answer was becoming muddier.

The logical answer was simple -  _No of course it's not going to be a problem. Everything is under control. (And you may notice I'm lying through my teeth)._

The actual answer was more complicated –  _I don't want it to be a problem. But I'm taking this day by day. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. So I don't know. But when I do know, you'll be the first to know. (And by the way, right now I'm freaking out)._

And in the middle of his conflict in trying to answer that question, his mind kept replaying something else - that when he'd told Liz 'the prospect of having to live without me must've been terrifying' he'd injected humor into it to ease the tension. It didn't make his question less serious. It was just the way he had phrased it. But what he kept replaying was her reply.  _'It was.'_  And not so much what she had said, but HOW she had said it.

She had been serious.

And the more he sat there, he found himself reversing the conversation.  _What if she had said that to me? What would I have replied?_  And he knew in no uncertain terms that he'd have also said "It was." But he would have covered it with humor,  _because it's just how I am... A complete dick at times..._  But underneath, he'd have been as serious as Liz had been.

' _It was.'_  Two words that had him thinking more about 'women stuff' than he cared to admit. He'd been leaning on Liz a lot lately. Emotionally for a while – and then physically today. And try as he might, he couldn't come up with a sarcastic or humorous comeback about that. Because he was thinking about her differently of late. She was still his work partner. But there was no denying now that he felt…more. And while he was in no way ready for a relationship with anyone…not with how he still felt about Audrey, he realized just how much he valued Liz as his friend. His best friend. He liked having her around. He trusted her. Confided in her. Broke down in front of her. Leaned on her.

 _And maybe…one day…more…?_  Now he had two questions he hadn't answered.

That was definitely too much 'women stuff' to think about, so he shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. To continue thinking about that, he realized, was really going to overload his brain. And right now, feeling the residue of the headache he'd had from the SUV accident and sedatives, he didn't need to overtax his brain. It was having a hard enough time as it was on the I NEED DRUGS roller coaster.

His phone lit up with a text from Liz right at that moment.  _Her ears must have been burning._

[It's definitely the Scimitar. Coroner took him now. Where are you at?]

He typed his reply to her. [where u left me. sitting at my desk] He stood up then, and looked out the blinds. Apparently, he was the only one left in this area of the building. His phone buzzed again.

[I'll be there soon :)]

_She typed a smiley. She never types smilies…_

And he found himself smiling at that, as he dropped his phone on the desk.

###

She arrived back at the post office 20 minutes later, and sat down tiredly at her desk across from him.

"So…you didn't catch up with me." She stated, trying to read him.

"No, sorry. I was…"  _Going around in circles…_ "Just thinking…" he replied.

"Are you okay?" she asked him softly, leaning forward to look more closely at him.

 _Am I okay?_  And when he looked at her, she was worried again, because she still couldn't read him right now.

"Hold that thought." He suddenly said, coming to a decision. "And come with me." He stood, waiting for her to join him.

She looked at him warily. "What's going on with you…?" and the overwhelming concern running through her mind was that he had used and was…high? But he wasn't, she could see his pupils were fine when she came and stood beside him.

He motioned with his head as he left their office with her beside him. Walking away from the bullpen, he headed down the 'Anslo Garrick walk of fame' as he had dubbed it. The hallway that led to the box. It was silent, and only a few lights shone in the distance in the hallway. She reached out to him and touched his arm.

"Where are we going…?"

He looked sideways at her, his eyes catching the dim lighting. "Here." He told her, stopping at a door.

"Here?" she looked, and the door had 'Supply Closet' painted on it. He opened the door, revealing a dimly lit room inside. A few mops and buckets lined the wall, and yellow 'Wet Floor' signs hung on hooks. And on one wall, a dirty trough sink, with a large mirror over it. Guiding her gently inside, he closed the door behind them.

She was confused now. Completely. "Um, yeah. Well this is nice…"

_Here's your answer Liz…_

He looked at her, and then completely and utterly surprised her when he put his left arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. Just like they had been when fleeing the hospital, only now it was …different.

"You asked me earlier tonight if being drugged today was going to be a problem." He told her, his head beside hers in the semi darkness. She looked up at him, her face close to his. She still couldn't read him. Had never seen this.

"So I've thought about it all night, since you left."  _That, and... other things…_

He reached into his right pocket, and heard her intake of breath when he showed her the bottle of pills. "Ress…" she whispered. "...no…"

He met her eyes. "I got these three days ago..." He hesitated when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes as she looked up at him. "And it's a refill for 30 tablets." He told her quietly, right beside her.

"Liz, there are still 30 tablets in here." He told her then looked at her silently.

Her tears spilled over. And when he reached down and wiped them away she looked up at him, unable to speak. And then he lifted his arm off her shoulder and stepped over to the sink, uncapping the bottle.

She held her breath as he turned on the water. And cried even more when she saw him turn the bottle upside down, spilling the tablets into the stream and washing them away. "Ress…" she whispered.

He felt calm. Calmer than he had imagined he would feel while doing this. And he knew it was right. He spilled the tablets down the sink, and as always, when he was near a mirror he looked up into it. He'd seen himself in this mirror a few times. And what he saw tonight was so different he barely recognized the look. Liz wasn't the only one.

He turned away from the mirror, seeing her crying as she watched him. He stepped back to her, and gave her the bottle.

"You keep that. Now there are no tablets in the bottle. And that is my answer to your question Liz."

She took the bottle and smiled at him through her tears, and then he surprised her all over again when he reached his arms around her and hugged her close.

_And this is the answer to my other question I had tonight._


	13. I Need Your Help

_So, we reached the Fall Finale. And I am SO bummed out that we now have to wait 3 months to see the next episode! But anyway, the finale episode was so busy with all the revelations and interaction between Red, Berlin and Fitch that it was a wild ride. And with all that going on, the ONE scene I'd waited all week to see was good, with Ressler and Tom finally facing off with each other. But I admit it – I felt robbed! I had wanted to see Liz tell Ressler about Tom. I had wanted to see his reaction to that news. I wanted to see how they got off the boat and to that phone booth! But we never got it! So…this is my take on how it 'might' have happened..._

* * *

The rusty, heavy door clanged behind Liz as she closed it, shutting in her ex husband as his shouting filled the air behind her.

"Liz! The only way is to let me out of here! You're out of time!"

Liz tried her best to ignore him but her mind was reeling as she walked quickly, making her way through the rust bucket of a ship. In its heyday it was a beautiful vessel, but she had long since faded from that former glory, left to sit idle and slowly rust in the harbor. Now her sole use was as a dungeon, holding an unkempt, chained prisoner who slept on a dirty mattress each night.

As Liz left the ship, desperately needing a few minutes to get some air, Tom's words rang in her ears. 'We both know you are in over your head.' She told herself she had it all under control. But as she walked toward her car she could feel in all unraveling. At every step, Tom's words spoke up in her head over and over again, 'You are not equipped for this Liz.' After four months - far longer than she had ever imagined this would go on - it was rapidly approaching the endgame.

And she WAS in over her head. Tom was right about that. And that, she realized, upset her more than anything else. That her ex husband still knew her. He could still read her. And that was both infuriating… and inexplicably reassuring. She shook that thought away.

Sitting in her car and parked on the dock a little way up from the rust bucket of a ship, her world was closing in. Tom was right about the fact she was running out of time. Sighing heavily, she leaned back in the seat.

"Think, dammit. Think. You're a Federal Agent. You can handle this." she whispered, panting, trying to stop the tears brimming in her eyes. But what she was doing – what she had been doing for 4 months was likely to have her carted off to a Federal prison. Leaning forward on the steering wheel, her hair falling around her face, she closed her eyes and tried to see a way out of this. To fix this. But she couldn't do it by herself anymore.

There was only one person she could call. And he'd come at her asking, she knew that much. But what then… dragging her partner into this so they could both end up at the same Federal prison? That wasn't fair on him at all. He didn't deserve that. He wasn't the one who had kept a prisoner locked up for 4 months in a rusty ship. And he had his own problems. She couldn't dump this in his lap. Not now, when he was just starting the long climb back up, trying to stay clean and off the pills. No, this was all on her.

"I need to go back inside…and unchain him…" she whispered, as if needing to hear it said out loud. But at that, her resolve weakened further. Not knowing what her ex husband would do once he was unchained. He could strangle her as effortlessly as he'd strangled the Harbor Master. The thought still made her shudder. She had seen him kill someone. The monster within him had been revealed. It didn't matter that Red told her he'd killed Jolene Parker. It was someone else, not Tom. It didn't matter that Meera had suspected, hell, that she herself suspected – knew – he'd killed Viktor Fokin. Seeing the man she'd shared her bed with for over two years ruthlessly choke a man to death with his own chains had rocked her to her very core. She had seen the Tom that Red had told her to be careful of - standing right in front of her with a fresh kill at his feet.

And now she was contemplating going back inside and unchaining him. Leaving him free to do what he wanted. Would he hurt her? She wasn't sure anymore. But that was a risk she was going to have to take. Red had told her Tom could lead them to Alan Fitch. And the only way to do that was to put him out on the street and let him contact Berlin. Lifting back up off the steering wheel, blinking in the afternoon sun, she collected herself and opened the car door. As she was standing by the car, looking down the dock toward the ship at the end, her phone rang.

It was Ressler. She hung up the phone. She couldn't talk to him right now. Because she needed him, yet she couldn't put this on him. And if she heard his voice right now…

The phone rang immediately as he redialed her number. If she didn't answer, he would know something was wrong. He'd come looking for her anyway. Her best bet was to answer and…act normal. When that was the last thing she was feeling right now.

"Keen…" she answered, hoping her partner didn't hear the hitch in her voice.

He did. Immediately.

That and the fact she had hung up on him first time he'd called and then answered him with 'Keen' had just destroyed any sense of normality. They didn't usually answer each other like that on the phone anymore, being so familiar they would just say 'Hey' and start talking.

"Liz…? You alright?"

"Sure…yeah. What have you got?" Standing leaning on her car, hearing his concerned voice was more than she could take. And what little resolve she had left fled completely. But still she couldn't drag him into this…complete and utter mess.

Ressler's voice took on a more hushed, secretive tone. She could picture him turning away to face the back wall in their office. "Liz, where are you? Where did you go after Red left?"

"…I'll be back soon, I had to… follow up-"

"What did he say to you?" He cut her off. "What's wrong?"

She knew he wasn't buying it, because he also could read her. Just like Tom. And then the floodgates broke and she turned to her car, leaning on it. And on the other end of the phone, Ressler heard her breath hitching and realized she was crying.

"Liz…?" he asked her softly.

"I'm okay… I'm-"

"Where are you? I'll be right there. I'm leaving now. Do not hang up until I get there." He had taken command. The tone of his voice had changed, and she listened to his voice, needing to hear that right now, wanting him here and yet dreading telling him.

Liz nodded, as if he were right there in front of her. "Ress…I…I'm sorry. The docks. Pier 87." Opening her car door, she climbed back inside clinging to her phone - clinging to her partner's steadying voice as she cried.

Crying not only because of Tom, but because she had now got her partner involved and had now likely destroyed his career too.

###

Ressler was walking briskly toward the elevator, phone to his ear, when he saw Cooper coming down the stairs to his right. Hoping like hell his boss wouldn't stop him, he kept his head down, averting his eyes.

"Agent Ressler!"

 _Crap. Think fast._  Turning slightly and holding his phone up for his boss to see, he kept walking. "Keen has an update from Reddington.' He called out, as if that would suffice in the midst of the controlled chaos inside the war room to locate Alan Fitch. He didn't offer anything else and quickly stepped into the elevator. As soon as the doors were closed, he spoke into the phone again.

"I'm heading up the elevator now." He had his keys ready and cursed how slow this elevator seemed to move at times. She hadn't answered him yet. "You alright...?"

"I don't know…" she told him, and he could still hear her crying.

 _What the heck is wrong...?_ "I'm on my way. Should be there in about 15 minutes."

On reaching the surface he jogged to his car and once inside he heard Liz talking to him again. "I'm sorry... You don't need to Ress…I can do thi-"

"Don't do that. Not now. I'm on my way." He told her listening to her breath hitching. And he really wished she wouldn't do THAT, because hell, it was bad enough seeing a woman cry. But hearing one and not being there to …comfort… was even harder. Absently nodding to the parking attendant as he pulled out onto the street, phone to his ear, he maneuvered through the heavier traffic and turned in the direction of the river.

"Liz, tell me what's happened." He told her, gently as he could, changing lanes and pushing through traffic. Wanting her to tell him, yet dreading the answer.

_This is not going to be good. Not by a long shot._

"I'll wait till you get here…" She didn't want to tell him while he was driving. Because when he found out…she tried not to think about that part of it.

"Okay…but tell me, are you hurt?" The concern in his voice was palpable. But he was relieved to hear her voice was a little steadier as she fought to control herself.

"No, I'm not." She assured him. Not yet… she thought.

Sitting at traffic lights, Ressler looked impatiently around. When the light finally turned green, he continued a couple more miles before edging his way across lanes and taking the exit toward the river and the shipping yards.

"I'm approaching the docks. Which direction as I come off the exit?" He actually knew which direction, but wanted her to keep talking to him.

"Take a left, then come down toward the end…almost the last dock…" She told him, and he could hear fewer hitches in her voice now. "Ress…I'm sorry…you're not going to like what you hear…"

"I already know that Liz." He didn't know what she was about to tell him.  _But I'm still going to listen._

Driving past container ships, he came to the area of the docks with the smaller ships, fishing boats and small trawlers. No container ships down this end, and, as he noticed, no one in sight. He spotted her car parked by a small storage unit and pulled in quickly beside her. Hurriedly climbing out of the SUV, he pulled open the passenger door of her car and quickly got inside.

Hanging up his phone and slipping it in his pocket, he took in her tear stained face. But it was her eyes that held him as she looked at him in desperation and apology, with tears threatening again. He reached out to her, placing his hand on her arm and turning slightly in the seat to look at her.

"Tell me."

"I…before I tell you, let me first say that I'm sorry... But I didn't want to compromise your position in any way…I didn't tell you because I-"

"Okay. It's okay. Just tell me what it is." He interrupted, trying to sound gentle, holding up his other hand to stop her.

"Tom. It's Tom." She said watching the confusion fly across his features.

He looked down briefly, his eyes darting, then back up at her. "Because he's dead…you mean?"  _Is this a delayed reaction? She's finally grieving his death…?_

"He's not dead. He's alive." And as she finally uttered the words to him, she exhaled heavily, no longer harboring that secret from her partner. She held her breath then, waiting for his response.

Dreading his response…

He stared at her. Opened his mouth to say something, then slammed it shut again, looking away. A dozen thoughts hit his brain at once, jostling and vying for attention.  _Alive?! What?! How can he be alive? He's dead! She shot him! Told me she shot him. How is he? Why is he? Why wouldn't she tell anyone? Why wouldn't she tell ME?!_

She grimaced, seeing the conflict in his face. And now that it was out, the words spilled out of her and she continued, despite his silence. Or to fill the void of his silence, more to the point. "Four months ago, I took him from where I shot him. A surgeon friend of mine patched him up. I've had him …contained… since then." She looked into Ressler's darting eyes, needing him to be there for her. And right now she needed him to say something. Anything.

Ressler finally found his voice and it wasn't gentle anymore, hidden among his swirling thoughts. "What the hell, Liz?! All this time you've led us to believe he was dead! You led ME to believe he was dead! How in the…?! And contained where?!"

Though he knew the answer to that - obviously, somewhere on this dock.

She leaned toward him. "I'm sorry. I know it's a lot to-"

"No shit, Liz." He leaned back on the headrest, shaking his head.

"I was worried about telling you… with you …just coming off the pills, and I-"

He glared at her. "Don't make this about that." He couldn't take the thought of her not seeking his help because she felt him still compromised. While it was still a daily battle of willpower he fought, he had that under control… as best he could.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply…" she replied.

He nodded to her, moving on from that. He couldn't linger there, discussing his addiction issues when Tom Keen was alive and 'contained' nearby. And as the initial shock of her revelation was passing, now Ressler found his FBI trained brain kicking in. "Why didn't you go to the Bureau with him?! Why didn't you go to Cooper?!"

_Why didn't you come to ME?!_

It was her turn not to linger, and get to the point of the discussion. "We can discuss the pros and cons of my decision later. But right now, I need…" She hesitated and he turned his furious gaze back to her.

"…I need your help." And the tears that had been brimming in her eyes spilled over, and she quickly brushed them away.

Four simple words.  _I need your help._

Four words that he couldn't resist from her, that now completely defused him. They were spoken with such need that they snapped him out of it _. She needs my help. So HELP HER._ Gathering his thoughts, he realized this wasn't about how pissed off he was that he hadn't been in the loop. And rebuking himself for even feeling that way, he inhaled deeply, calmed himself down and turned to her again, his voice much more even. "Alright, you got it. What do you need?"

Taking a deep breath, she wiped the tears from her cheeks as she saw him settle down. "I kept Tom alive because he's been my… informant…"

 _An informant who worked for Berlin..._ He nodded in sudden understanding. "And he can find Berlin, and that will help us find Fitch." He completed her sentence. She looked at him gratefully, seeing him realize where she was going with this. Seeing them on the same page.

"Tom is in that ship over there, in the cargo hold…" she pointed past Ressler toward the faded orange trawler at the far end of the dock, and he turned to look where she was pointing. "And I need to get him out of there and…back on the street…so he can help us find Berlin and ultimately, Fitch."

And now Ressler understood what she needed from him. He was to ride shotgun. He was her backup…her protection because there was NO way in hell he was letting her confront Tom alone when he was released from the hold.  _But I don't like this. Damn it. This is breaking about a hundred rules._

"And you need me here to make sure he doesn't hurt you when he's released." He looked quickly at her again. "I am not going to let him hurt you, Liz"  _You SO should have let me rough him up last year._

"Thank you." She whispered, and for a moment he thought she was going to cry again.  _Please don't do that…_

"Yes…that's what I need from you..." And more, she suddenly thought. She needed his support, his back up, his protection, yes… but most of all, she needed to know he was right by her side.

"What's the game plan then?" he asked her, interrupting her thoughts. He was going to treat this as a 'prisoner transport' and he'd probably done a thousand of them. It was the safest way for him to handle it – try to handle it. To resort to the FBI handbook.

"He's chained in the hold in the ship-"

"He's chained up?! Good God, Liz!" He couldn't help it. Despite trying to be calm for her, that had come as a surprise. He shook his head, digesting that information.  _Calm down._ "And you have the key, I take it?"

"Yes, I have it. He also has an ankle monitor on-"

He closed his eyes, and exhaled. "I'm not even going to ask where you got that from."  _Dammit._  Breathing in steadily, he continued. "Okay, so we unchain him, then where did you have in mind to take him?"  _Am I really having this conversation?!_

"He just needs a payphone…and I know there is one about a mile up the road. Then he can contact Berlin and get us an address." And saying it out loud, it didn't seem quite as daunting. A huge risk, most certainly, but more doable now.

"And then?" He asked her.

"Then I let him go."

 _What?!_  He stared at her, clenching his jaw.  _You really don't want to know what I think about that Liz._  He shook his head, then quickly got out of the car and looked back at her. And as she looked fearfully up at him, she thought she'd lost him. That she'd pushed too far. That she was indeed in this on her own and he was leaving.

And then he looked more calmly at her. "Come on, Liz. We have a prisoner to move."

###

As they walked down the dock he couldn't help but look furtively around them at every step. He wasn't sure what he expected. But knowing who was in the hold at the far end of the dock had him on guard.

"There's no one around. This end of the dock is always deserted. No one can put us here. Put the Bureau here…" She told him.

"You sure about that? People have eyes Liz. And we have Fed written all over us." He told her, looking past her to the other side of the river. He drew his attention back to the boat they were approaching. Dilapidated didn't even begin to describe it.  _How the hell is it still afloat_  was more like it.

Drawing his weapon from its holster, he held it as they came up beside the vessel, then followed Liz up the gangplank. The movement of the boat on the water made him uneasy.  _Damn. Why did it have to be a boat..._  "He's in the main cargo hold, down here…" she told him quietly, her own weapon drawn now.

As they walked down the deck and were about to walk inside through a rusty door, she turned to him. "There's something else."

"There's more than THIS?" He looked at her resignedly. "What else, Liz?"

She stopped, not wanting to tell him, but needed to warn him. Because it was going to be right in front of him any minute now. "Tom…killed a man a little while ago. His body is in the hold also." She said, positive Ressler would turn and walk away at that additional piece of information. She'd held off telling him that part of the equation until she knew he was really going to go through with this and walk inside to where Tom was being held.

He clenched his teeth, hissed in a breath. "Dammit Liz. You're really pushing it today. If I didn't…"  _Care about you…_  He stopped, swallowed hard and faced her. "Who the hell did he kill?" he hissed at her through his teeth. And something suddenly occurred to him. "Don't tell me it was Reddington?!"

She stared at him. "Uh, no. Not Red. The Harbor Master. He's been snooping around all day, and-"

Unsure of whether he was relieved or not that it wasn't Red, he reached for his phone. "We need to call this in. Right now." He interrupted her.

Her hand shot out, stopping him dialing. "Wait!"

"For what Liz? For him to kill someone else? Kill you?"

"The only way this is going to…work out… is if we let him find Berlin and Fitch. That is the ultimate goal here. It's still a valid goal." She pleaded, her hand still on his as he held his phone.

"We're both going to jail for this Liz. You know that, right?!" He told her through clenched teeth. "But you know what? Lead the way." He told her firmly, dropping his phone back in his pocket. When she didn't move, he looked down at her, his voice calmer now. "I'm in too deep now. I can't walk away. I won't leave you alone with him."

She nodded, then turned and opened the heavy door and led him inside the boat's interior. As they descended the narrow stairs and made their way through the ship, Ressler was making mental notes on what to watch for on the way out with Tom Keen. Points in the return trip that their prisoner could use as weapons or escape. Because in the midst of this crazy turn of events, thinking like a Fed was the only thing keeping him sane.

And then they were in front of another heavy door and Liz turned and nodded to him, motioning inside the room. This was the prisoner cell. His gun at the ready, she opened the door and they both stood in the doorway with weapons drawn as they held Tom Keen in their sights.

Ressler had only seen Tom in person twice. And both times, were fleeting. He'd seen photos of the man, and knew what he looked like. But none of those mental images had anything in common with the unkempt, long haired, thin man standing in front of him. A man chained to the floor, a filthy, putrid mattress behind him, and stained sink beside him. As he took in the full view of the hold, Tom Keen and the dead Harbor Master, his breath caught in his throat. Liz had been dealing with this by herself for months. The least he could do was keep it together for her right now.

Motioning for Liz to keep her weapon on him, he holstered his, took his handcuffs from his belt and moved toward the prisoner.

Tom's eyes flickered over Ressler, studying him up and down in an instant. He turned to Liz, a sardonic smile on his lips. "I see you brought the partner. The back up. The muscle."

He looked at Ressler now, unaware of just how much the FBI agent wanted to put a bullet in his head and end this right now. "What did she promise you in return for this little favor? A cozy weekend for two?" he mocked, looking Ressler in the eye.

"Shut up." The words came in unison from both Liz and Ressler, which made Tom chuckle and shake his head. "Oh, I always knew you and my wife were the same."

"I am not your wife." Liz told him firmly, taking a step closer aiming her gun at his head.

Eyeing the cuffs in Ressler's hands, he held his hands out in front of him. "You better cuff me tight. My ex wife's cuisine hasn't been the best. Kinda lost some weight down here. I might just slip right out of them-"

"I told you to shut up." Ressler told him coldly, standing right in front of the man now as they sized each other up like two pit bulls. He then grabbed Tom's left arm and held it behind him, before grabbing the right arm roughly to cuff him behind his back.

Liz had approached now, holding the key to the ankle chains. They swapped positions, as Ressler again drew his weapon and held Tom at gun point while Liz leaned down to unchain him.

"Don't move pal. Or I'll drop you with one shot." Ressler goaded him, almost willing Tom to move now.  _Are you gonna cooperate? Please say no…_

The shackles fell to the floor as Liz opened them and for the first time in 4 months, Tom Keen walked without metal around his ankles. Holstering his weapon again as Liz again drew hers, Ressler grabbed Tom by the arm and led him roughly from the cell. They made their way through the ship, maneuvering up the narrow stairs, Ressler holding onto his arm while Liz held him at gun point, until they stood on the deck.

Tom stood still, blinking in the light. It was the first time he'd seen the sun and felt the outside air in 4 months.

Ressler pushed him impatiently. "Move it pal."

Tom moved again and silently met the agent's eyes, a hint of a dangerous smile playing across his lips.

Ressler met the look and lowered his voice out of earshot of Liz. "I don't think you could swim in these cuffs. It would be unfortunate if you accidentally fell overboard." He told Tom, daring the man to make a move.

"I won't always be cuffed. Remember that." Tom replied, his hooded eyes regarding Ressler.

"Just give me one reason, and I will take the shot Keen. Or whatever the hell your real name is." Ressler warned as they stepped onto the dock and walked to Liz's car.

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you. Play the hero. But how do you think Liz would feel about you if you murdered the man she's still in love with."

"Shut up." Said Ressler, ending their conversation, as Tom shook his head and smiled knowingly.

Liz followed behind the two men, her gun trained on Tom. She knew they were talking – goading each other. She couldn't hear the words, but she knew both men well enough to see that they were bouncing verbally off each other as they walked. Sparring with their words.

She didn't need to hear what they were saying. Because as she walked behind them, she realized she knew them both intimately. One physically, and one not, but both of them played a huge part in her life.

Ressler shoved Tom into the back seat of the car and climbed in beside him, now drawing his gun on the cuffed man. As Liz climbed into the drivers seat with Ressler behind her, Tom looked at her from the back seat.

"Nice day for a drive, babe."

"Shut up." Liz and Ressler both told him in unison and Tom chuckled again in response.

###

Two minutes later they pulled into an empty side street near a pay phone and Liz parked about 50 feet away from it.

"There's your phone." She told Tom, looking into the back seat as he sat there with cuffed hands behind him. "You know what we need."

"Yes, babe." He said to her, trying to elicit a response.

Beside him Ressler clenched his teeth. "Turn around."

Tom eyed him, before turning his back to Ressler so that he could remove the cuffs. After Ressler removed them, more roughly than was called for, Tom turned back to him. "Oh, you just hated doing that."

"I told you. One wrong move and I'll take that shot." Ressler told him, daring him to push him too far.

Liz spoke up again. "Go make your phone call. Now."

"Sure thing, babe." And he got out of the car, head down, and walked toward the phone booth. Ressler watched him walk away then got out of the car and walked around to the passenger seat, never taking his eyes off Tom.

He sighed, climbed in beside Liz and clenched his teeth.

He glanced across at Liz, who had her eyes trained on her ex husband as he reached the pay phone. Looking away from her, he also watched Tom making a phone call.

And sitting beside her, he wondered what the hell he had just done.


	14. Complicated

_So, more additional scenes from 2x08 'The Decembrist'. It picks up right as Ressler lies for Liz – which I absolutely loved that he did for her! Wow, what a long way he's come from 'by the book Agent Ressler'! And since we're now in the winter hiatus (...sniff...), this will be the last chapter for a while until the show returns on February 1_ _st_ _next year – which is a CRAZY long time to have to wait! So Conversations 2 isn't done - it's also in hiatus. Once new episodes come back, I'll once again start weaving my story through and around what we see on the show, filling in blanks and generally having fun with what the writers miss telling us!_

* * *

"I don't care if your source is confidential or what promises you've made him. I want him here; I want him interrogated, and I want his name." The Deputy Attorney General addressed Liz.

From behind Liz, Ressler spoke up before Liz could form her thoughts into words. "You must be kidding."

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?" The woman glared at him, and Ressler didn't flinch under her gaze, coolly addressing her with his steel blue eyes. In front of him, Liz wasn't sure what the heck he was doing and stayed silent for the moment.

"It's Reddington."

Ressler was the only one who heard Liz suck in a tiny breath as he stood slightly behind her. "Her source is Reddington." He repeated and without waiting for an answer, he turned back to their office, ending further discussion. The set of his shoulders and calm features effectively hiding the fact that his brain was screaming at him ' _You just lied to your superiors!'_

As he stood looking out the blinds, wondering again what the hell he'd just done (which seemed to be the theme of the day) the small company dispersed outside their office. Cooper and the Deputy A.G. both turned in the direction of the lead bomb tech that was worriedly approaching. And from across the room, Aram signaled to Liz and she walked over to him and Samar.

Ressler had just lied to his superiors… _but apparently I'm not done shooting myself in the foot just yet..._  He knew without doubt what else needed to be done. Seeing Liz still over with Aram, he seized the opportunity and took his phone from his pocket. Finding the number he needed he dialed it quickly before he could change his mind. Stepping back from the blinds, keeping a watchful eye on Liz, he sucked in a shuddering breath.

The phone was answered quickly on the other end. "Donald? To what do I owe the pleasure?" Red answered smoothly.

Ressler almost hung up at the sound of Red's voice. Almost changed his mind. But then need overrode any hesitation he may have had, and turning his head slightly he lowered his voice and spoke quietly into his phone.

"Reddington…I..." He stopped, grimacing at being in this position. Granted, he'd accepted the man's help after Sitka. But he'd been too out of it to care at that point. But now, this was a conscious decision and old habits had kicked in. He was a Fed. He wasn't supposed to need – or seek - the assistance of the criminal elite.

_Oh God, just do it._

He exhaled sharply. "I need your help."

"Anything. Tell me what you need, Donald." Red got right down to business. He didn't even ask what it was and Ressler appreciated that more than the man would ever know. Or perhaps he did know. Nothing much seemed to surprise Raymond Reddington.

Glancing up quickly, seeing Liz still leaning on Aram's desk, Ressler continued. "I need Mr Kaplan."

He suddenly realized that had a dual meaning, given his recent dealings with the woman. And to ensure Red didn't think he needed her… _rehab…_  he pressed on quickly in explanation. "I have a body that needs…disposing of. And a room that needs sterilizing top to bottom." And as soon as he'd told Red, he closed his eyes momentarily as he leaned on the window ledge.  _Dammit…you've just gone further down the rabbit hole._

"Understood. Where is the location?" asked Red, and Ressler had to hand it to him. The man knew when brevity was required.

Looking up again to confirm Liz was still with Aram, he continued. "Pier 87, at the end of the dock. An old orange and white rust bucket of a ship. It's in the main hold." Said Ressler, inhaling quickly at the sight of Liz walking toward him now. He needed to get off the phone.

"I will see to it. And Donald, I know this is for Lizzie. And I thank you for looking out for her." And then Red was gone, hanging up immediately much to Ressler's relief. Slipping his phone in his pocket, he sighed heavily and was standing at the window trying to control his breathing when Liz entered their office a second or two later.

Finding Ressler standing with hands on hips as he looked out through the blinds, she stood slightly behind him. "Why did you say…" she started, but he cut her off as he turned sideways at her.

"Not now."  _Let's not look any more suspicious than we already do..._  He sighed, glancing at her. "We can discuss it later at home-" he stopped, realizing what he'd said as a faint smile appeared on her lips.

"I mean, Hotel Red…" he finished, a slight blush briefly appearing on his cheeks, made worse by the fact he'd just spoken to the man.  _She doesn't need to know. And we'll keep it that way._

"I know what you mean." She replied, resisting the urge to pat his arm as he continued looking out through the blinds. "But Ress, you shouldn't have..."

He nodded, turning from the window. "Later, Liz. Not now…" He told her, cutting her off again. "We should get back out there, I don't like how worried that bomb guy is looking."  _And I need to concentrate on the job at hand here._

"I saw him when he came and got Cooper… I'm not sure they can disarm this in time." She told him, and he glanced briefly at her, the image of Fitch being escorted into the building and down the 'Anslo Garrick Walk of Fame' fresh in his mind.

"I don't think this is going to end well." He told her as they both left the office and went and joined their team in the war room. There wasn't a lot they could do though. It was in the hands of the Bomb Squad now.

_All we're doing is waiting for a guy to blow up…_

Ressler sat at one of the desks while Liz went over and stood by Samar again. And as he sat there, eyes glued to the screens showing Fitch and the bomb tech, he reached into his right pocket out of habit.  _Damn it._  He'd been off the pills two weeks but at times his brain insisted on taunting him, more so in stressful situations …  _because waiting for a man to detonate - while trying to dispose of a body after lying to my superiors - could definitely be classed as stressful._

He stole a quick glance at Liz. And from across the room she suddenly looked in his direction and nodded imperceptibly. She didn't know exactly what was going on behind those eyes of his. All she knew was he was struggling, and while no one else in the room would have even noticed, she knew him well enough to see how much he was hiding it.

###

Not quite thirty minutes after Ressler had called him, Red arrived at the Post Office. He didn't speak to anyone, his gait slowing just a little as he caught sight of Alan Fitch on the monitors. Dropping his gaze, he looked squarely into Ressler's eyes for the briefest of moments and imperceptibly, there was a nod. Ressler didn't acknowledge it. He didn't need to. And he wasn't going to make it any more obvious than it already was that Red had singled him out. He had to assume that it was done. That Red had been true to his word and had sent Mr Kaplan to  _…clean up the mess…_

As Red went up the stairs to Cooper's office, Ressler found his eyes dragging back to the image of Fitch on the monitors, his voice filling the room as his discussion with the bomb tech continued. Agents and bomb squad guys in the war room gradually gave up all pretense of trying not to listen. And now they all sat watching the monitor, listening as Fitch told the bomb tech, "Go home Mike. You've done everything you can."

Ressler and Liz sought out each other's eyes across the room, feeling the finality of the words. From the direction of the box the sound of the door alarm blaring reached them as Mike exited the box, leaving Fitch alone. Armed agents quickly positioned themselves in place at the entrance to the hallway, blocking anyone from heading toward the box.

And again, Fitch's voice filled the room, "Harold, I know you're listening. Tell Ray I need to see him."

It took Ressler a second or two to realize Fitch was referring to Red. He'd never thought of the man as 'Ray'. They turned to see Cooper walk toward his office to get Reddington and comply with Fitch's request.

_Oh God…he's saying goodbye…_

And at that moment, the video feed went dead, the lights shut down one by one toward the box, plunging the box room and hallway into eerie silence. No more listening in and watching on the monitor. Now it was Fitch and the bomb alone.

Ressler swallowed hard, dragged his eyes off the static playing on the monitor and once again met Liz's eyes across the room. And at the look in his eyes, Liz left the desk she was sitting at with Samar and walked toward her partner. And almost on cue, as if 'given permission', Samar left her desk and went and stood by Aram.

They were pairing up. Waiting together for the inevitable.

Liz came and stood by him, leaning on the desk close to him. And meanwhile his brain became more relentless in its goading of him to  _'just take a freakin' pill, and you'll feel better.'_  His brain apparently hadn't got the memo that it was a moot point anyway – because he no longer had any pills. Ignoring his internal struggle as best he could, he again looked up at static on the monitor.

"You okay?" Liz whispered and he nodded in reply, not wanting to discuss it. He fought this battle daily, and sometimes it just got a little harder.

"Are you?" He asked her quietly, and she hesitated. "Yeah..." She turned to him, her face beside his as she leaned on the desk shoulder to shoulder with him. "This sucks Ress…"

He exhaled heavily and nodded as Red came quickly down the stairs. Resolutely and silently he headed toward the hallway as Cooper motioned for the guards to let him through. As Red passed the guards, he crossed paths with Mike the bomb tech coming from that direction. Red momentarily stopped, patted Mike on the shoulder and said something briefly to the young man before continuing his walk to the box.

"Where does Red know Fitch from…?" Ressler asked Liz quietly as they huddled together at the desk.

"Not sure exactly, but it apparently goes back years… I mean, we know Red has contacts and resources all over the globe…" she told him, keeping her voice low.

_Including body cleanup crews…oh God…_

From behind them, they heard Mike quietly apologizing to his superior, who replied to him in hushed tones. "You have nothing to apologize for kid. The hard truth is Mr Fitch was right… we can't disarm this thing, Mike. It's too sophisticated…"

The entire room was quiet. Waiting for the inevitable.

Liz looked silently at Ressler again as they listened to the Bomb Squad guys. "…I hate this…" she whispered, looking into his eyes. "If…when… it goes off, how protected will Red be if he's near..?"

He met her worried eyes. But what he was suddenly seeing was his view from inside the box as Anslo Garrick's men pushed explosives onto the crossbeams. And even through the fog of agony emanating through his body that day, he had clearly heard Garrick upset with his men that they didn't have enough explosives to blow the thing. It didn't appear that Fitch had nearly the amount of explosives around his neck necessary to affect the integrity of the box.  _The integrity of his head though…well, that's a different matter…_

"Red should be fine... even if he's standing right at the box…"  _Well, as 'fine' as you can be after seeing someone explode…_  He sighed heavily, noticing that Liz's hands were shaking a little. So were his, but for a different reason as his brain still insisted he shut up and listen to it.

She noticed too, looking at his large hands resting on the desk beside hers and looked up and met his eyes, whispering to him. "Are you sure you-"

She never finished her sentence.

The shockwave ripped through the room, as if for a moment the entire building had filled its lungs with air then quickly expelled it. Enveloped in the momentary vacuum, they ducked instinctively, protecting themselves from the unseen explosion. The muffled sound of the blast followed the shockwave a split second later.

"No!" Liz cried out and Ressler grabbed her nearby hand without a thought. "Shit." He swore under his breath, closing his eyes as the shock wave passed. Startled shouts rang out from agents around them as a loud alarm sounded, valiantly announcing a perceived attack on the building. As the siren blared through the war room, Ressler leaned shoulder to shoulder with Liz, and squeezed his partner's hand reassuringly.

Bomb Squad guys were seemingly everywhere then, charging by them as they headed for the box. Ressler wondered just what good they could do now. As the alarm continued its incessant warning through the room, he shot a glance toward Aram and Samar sitting close together at Aram's desk, their shocked looks mirroring his own.

And above it all, Cooper's commanding voice now sounded from the top of the stairs. "Stand your ground. No one move until the Bomb Squad secures the scene - unless of course, you're the person shutting that damn alarm off."

As they remained in position, there was one who was not listening. From the shadows Dembe suddenly appeared, sprinting to the hallway. Armed guards reached out in vain to stop him, but he was gone, swiftly running past them toward the box.

###

As the initial chaos in the room subsided and the alarm had thankfully been silenced, Ressler and Liz made their way toward the entry to the hallway. The guards still held them back, but neither of them had any intention, or desire for that matter, of going to the box. Ressler had seen more than enough blood spilled in it and didn't relish the thought of seeing… _an exploded guy all over the glass…_

They leaned against the wall near the self-important guards while waiting for Red, and inwardly Ressler was taking some perverse pleasure in teasing the armed men merely with their presence.  _Hell, I need something amusing today._ Within a couple of minutes the familiar silhouette of Red approached, backlit by the floodlights now illuminating the box and surrounding room. Dembe, his ever loyal shadow was a few steps behind him to his left. Liz approached Red as he entered the war room.

"Red…are you okay?"

He barely even looked at her. "I'm fine, Lizzie." He told her, emotionless, his voice even.

Liz walked beside him for a step or two, "I'm sorry…" But this time Red ignored her and kept walking. Ressler knew that look as the man walked toward him. The set of the jaw; the inwardly focused eyes and the controlled breathing. The man needed some space, and hell, who could blame him. Taking Liz by the elbow Ressler quietly told her, "Let him be."

As Red turned and continued toward the elevator, Dembe looked back at them and shook his head gently. Ever silent, he then jogged to catch up to his boss. As the two men stepped through the yellow door of the elevator, Dembe leaned across Red to press the button to close the door.

The elevator rose, and the sound of Cooper's cane tapping on the hard floor behind them announced his presence. They heard him exhale heavily before he spoke to them.

"Haz-mat is on their way. They will be overseeing the…clean up… of the box." He looked down the hallway to the floodlights, hesitated, and then turned back to his agents. "This was not the outcome we wanted. But it doesn't take away from the fact that you both did good work today. There's not much we can do around here until Haz-mat is done. So get out of here, both of you, and I'll see you back here tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," said Liz, as Ressler looked silently at their boss.

As they turned toward their office, Ressler realized the only thing missing had been his 'I'm amazing' smile - because once again, someone had 'accused' him of doing good work, when he knew the truth was far from it. He had lied, withheld evidence – ignored a murder victim lying dead at his feet, let a prisoner go – and called in a clean up team to dispose of the evidence.  _And all in the pursuit of a man who had just exploded all over the damn box._

But it was more than that. Red had known it immediately, while Ressler just took a little longer to admit it to himself. He'd done it for Liz _._ And that fact was undeniable _._ And on top and everything else, his brain still wouldn't shut up about taking a pill.  _I can't wrap my head around all this right now…_

He looked up to find Liz eyeing him warily, her brows furrowing. "What…? I mean…apart from the obvious with…all this," she motioned with her arm toward the Bomb Squad and newly arrived Haz-mat team. Ressler glanced over toward the yellow clad cleanup team, momentarily taken back to an airport terminal just a few weeks ago. Which didn't help. Because all it did was remind him that he'd broken rules that day too. Or at the very least 'bent the rules'…to get to Liz…

Drawing his eyes away from the Haz-mat team, he turned his attention back to his partner, giving her the best half smile he could muster as they entered their office. And while trying his best to sound normal, or at the very least sound like none of this had bothered him all that much, he spoke quietly to her. "Let's do as Cooper says and get out of here."

"Definitely." She agreed, grabbing her gear from her desk drawer then walking to the door. "Um, Ress, I need to…go back to the boat…" she whispered as she stood by him on her way out the door of their office.

His eyes met hers as she stood close. "You're not going there alone."

And as she opened her mouth to protest, he suddenly gave her his version of 'the look' and promptly silenced her. And surprised himself.

_Damn. I didn't know I had it in me._

###

In the parking garage he climbed into her car, not wanting her to take off without him to the docks. She knew what he was doing, and appreciated it. But she also didn't want him involved any deeper than he was. Which was a futile effort, at best, as she quickly discovered.

"I'll be fine. Seriously, that boat is the LAST place Tom will want to be right now." She told him, then added, "I shouldn't have let you get involved…and I am so sorry about that…"

"Well, it's a little late for that. I AM involved Liz. And I had to prevent Cooper and the Deputy A.G. knowing about Tom, because I didn't see any other way to cover this up without them connecting you to it." He was leaning toward her talking in hushed tones and choosing his words carefully. Trying to only address the fact he'd lied, and not the fact he knew Mr Kaplan was likely there right now and cleaning up, or had already been and gone. Because as much as he'd done today of his own volition, even if not exactly willingly, he wasn't sure how she'd feel about him having done that.

"But I was going to tell Cooper…" she told him just as quietly. Even in the safety of her car, they were still afraid to speak of it any louder.

"And then what?" he hissed at her. "Cooper would have slapped the cuffs on you himself. What would that have achieved?"

"Maybe …but it would have been right. Maybe I should be thrown in jail…" she replied, dropping her gaze to her shaking hands.

 _Over my dead body…_ "And I wasn't going to stand around and let that happen, Liz."

"Why not? Look at what I've done these past four months…" She said, looking up at him, her lashes wet with tears.

_Liz…this pity party isn't helping…_

"Look…I don't know how it all got to be this…complicated." He told her in hushed tones, leaning closer, "all I know is…I didn't HAVE to do any of that today. I CHOSE to do it. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat…to protect you."

And he'd said it. No taking it back now.

Her breath hitched as she lifted her eyes to him. "I don't deserve that…"

And he smiled at her then, looking into her eyes. "And I don't deserve you keeping my addiction from Cooper. I don't deserve anything you and Red did for me after Sitka. That's just what…friends… do Liz." He told her, reaching out and wiping tears gently from her cheeks. It was instinctive. He didn't even think about it, and she didn't flinch.

Liz…I didn't want anything to happen to you." He told her, gently dropping his head to look up into her eyes. "That's why I did what I did today."

"So the prospect of having to live without me must also be terrifying to you…" she suddenly said, looking into his eyes intently, as tears flowed down her cheeks.

And here it was. The question had been reversed.

"It is." He told her truthfully, without hesitation. And not a hint of sarcasm in sight.

And at that she smiled through her tears, and reached for him across the seat. And sitting in her car, he hugged her as she cried softly. "Thank you." She whispered in his ear. "My boy scout…"

He smiled as he held her, and whispered into her ear now "Tarnished boy scout, Liz... I think my cap has slipped a bit."

He heard her laughing gently in his ear at that, and then she pulled away from him getting herself under control. "You'll do though." She wiped her tears away, and took in a deep breath as their eyes held each other.

 _And let's get back to…business here… before we…_  He couldn't finish that thought.

"So, swap seats." He told her, "Because there's no way you're driving. I'll take you to the docks." She smiled, knowing why he'd changed the subject. And as they climbed out their respective sides of her car and crossed at the rear of her vehicle they stood and faced each other.

"Complicated is right, Ress." She told him gently as she looked up at him, and he knew she wasn't only referring to the day they'd just had. And as he looked at her, he realized that his brain had stopped screaming at him for the first time in hours. And that all the bad decisions he'd made today suddenly felt worth it.

_Damn, Liz…you do have an affect on me…_

_You complicate my life…but in a good way…_

* * *

_(And this note is at the end so I didn't give a spoiler away at the top of the page! I want to give a big thank you to angelhug on ff for suggesting an idea for this chapter. She suggested I add a scene where Ressler calls Red to have him dispose of the body for Liz. So I did, because I think it added another layer to how far Ress is willing to go for Liz – so thank you angelhug, for that idea!)_


	15. Memories

_Oh my gosh, so after 3 and a half months, we FINALLY got our show back! And while Luther Braxton Pt 1 was good and had some nice Ressler moments (just not nearly enough) Pt 2 was SO good! From that opening 2 minutes, and then to Ressler when he saw what Red was doing to Liz. When he demanded Red wake her up NOW, wow...Keenler right there! But even that awesome scene from Ressler was overshadowed by his run to her as soon as she dismissed Red! Keenler! Another 'blue blanket cuddle'! So this takes place after that as it's 'all over' and the medic is checking Liz on the chair. (I also wanted to point out that I had my outline and a good start on my chapter when Lizicia posted her excellent story on this same scene. I didn't copy her idea, I swear!)_

* * *

Ressler leaned on the guard rail of the empty pool, feeling the metal digging into the sore muscles in his arms. Every inch of him wanted to run back down to where Liz was being checked by the medic. But Reddington was at her side. In this strange connection that she and Red had, there were times it hit him right in the gut that he was excluded from that. The leather straps that had bound her hung loose below her and the mere sight of them made Ressler's stomach churn. Beside him Samar said something. He wasn't listening. He had no idea what she said, and apparently it wasn't important enough to repeat.

"I swear…if he's hurt her in any way…" he said, more to himself than to Samar. A fact Samar understood when she didn't reply. Standing up straighter as the medic finished his examination of Liz, Ressler moved a few inches closer to the steps to his right. But it still wasn't time. Again, Red had lowered his head toward Liz. As the medic came up the ramp and passed them by, Samar spoke to him.

"How is she?"

"She's a little disoriented and her vitals are a little low, but she's stable. Physically, she should be fine."

"Thank you," said Samar as the medic headed down the stairs behind them.

 _Physically she should be fine?_  The short hairs on the back of his neck prickled. But he still had to hold back, standing at the rail in the half light while Red spoke to Liz in that fatherly tone. But giving them complete privacy was not an option. His eyes never left Liz, as if to look away would leave her at Red's mercy.

As Red leaned close, Liz recoiled from him. Ressler saw it, sucking in a sharp breath at that. Whatever platitudes Red was dishing, Liz was no longer having it. Ressler's jaw clenched in a body wound tight as a coiled spring. And gripping the railing tight beneath white knuckles, he swore under his breath.

He felt Samar touch his arm. "Hey, you okay?" she asked him, her dark eyes looking sideways at him.

He didn't even answer Samar - which of course, told her exactly what she needed to know.

Behind them someone was coming up the stairs. As Samar stepped down to meet who it was, they heard a child's voice. Max, the son of Dr Orchard was being brought up to his mother.

"Don't!" Liz's sharp cry pierced the room.

Ressler was running down the stairs to her before the echo of her cry had even faded.

As he jumped off the second to last step and jogged to meet her, Liz was on her feet and attempting to draw a blanket around her. Ressler didn't look past her to Red. If he met the man's eyes he might…  _deck the bastard right here and now_. In the semi dark Liz was in front of him, pale and silent with dark eyes that lingered in a distant past. As his arm slipped easily around her shoulders, she appeared smaller and softer than he could recall in some time. Physically the same and yet something had been stripped away leaving her raw and exposed. And as his hand came up and held her arm, drawing her closer to his side she trembled beneath him.

"I've got you… come on…" he whispered to her as he led her to the stairs. Her footing was sound as she climbed each step, but still he stayed right behind her and kept his hand on her back. As they reached the pool deck, Dr Orchard was there, hugging and crying over her son. Making their way past the tearful reunion, Ressler held Liz close to him as they carefully stepped around Dr Orchard in the entrance. Liz's bare arms were cold under his hands, the warmth of the blanket yet to reach her. Samar reached out to Liz and between them they led her down the stairs, leaving the empty pool with its apparatus of forced memories behind them.

As Liz stumbled at the bottom of the stairs, Ressler's arms were already there to steady her. "I got you."

She had not yet acknowledged him, focused inward on a burning house and a father who couldn't possibly have made it out alive. But now her eyes found his, their normal bright blue dulled. Two dark dilated pools filled with faraway glimpses of memories. For a moment he sucked in a breath at the depth of pain in her eyes, wanting suddenly to hug her tight, as if he could squeeze out the damage that had occurred.

"I got you," he repeated, swallowing down the renewed urge to deck Reddington. Standing at the bottom of the staircase his arms briefly left her as he quickly shed his wool overcoat. And as Liz stood silently between them, with Samar's help he dressed Liz in his coat before placing the blanket back around her shoulders.

"I'll go and get the vehicle ready," said Samar, and headed out the front door.

Stepping out of the building and into the swath of red and blue flashing lights, Liz gasped as she covered her eyes and drew in closer to him. "It's okay…" His arm answered her, shielding her from the lights as her eyes closed against them. His tall frame hugged her to him now, burying her into his chest as he led her to the waiting vehicle. Surrounded by FBI, ambulance and Police he led her away, holding up his hand as another medic came forward to offer assistance. And beneath his arms she shivered even more in the cold night air, despite his coat.

"Come on, it will be warmer in the car," he whispered close to her. Liz didn't say a word as he got her in the back seat. Ressler was about to get in beside her when he turned to take a last look at the gathered law enforcement, and spied Reddington coming out of the building.

"Wait here," he told Samar, leaning down to look in the back door. Glancing at Liz then back at Samar, he stood, closed the car door and jogged to where Red was walking away from the lights with Dembe. Red saw him coming and stopped, gauging the mood of the agent immediately.

"Donald, whatever you have to say can surely wait until after Lizzie is away from here and rested, don't you think?" Red sighed, as Dembe came to a stop two steps behind him.

Ressler ignored him, coming to stand in front of him with jaw and knuckles clenched. "What the hell were you thinking? What did you need to find out that was SO important it justified doing this to her?"

Red tilted his head as he took in the sight of Ressler ready to pounce in front of him. "Donald, there are things in Lizzie's past that are of interest to me and to others, but far more than that, they are important to her," said Red, taking a step to walk around Ressler.

Ressler cut him off, using his height to full advantage as he leaned in and over Red, his eyes fixed on the shorter man. "Nothing. And I mean nothing gives you the right to drug her with the sole purpose of extracting something from her brain."

Behind Red's eyes, recognition dawned. "I understand fully that the thought of using drugs on her strikes a very raw nerve with you, my friend. But it may be of interest to you, Donald, that at one point, Lizzie asked Dr Orchard to continue. For her sake."

"She never should have been in a position to need to ask to continue," hissed Ressler, not letting Red off that lightly.

"Agreed. However, you saw the medic check her and she is fine. Yes, she's a little out of it-"

"A little out of it?! Have you seen her eyes? That's more than a little, Reddington!"

Red nodded slightly now, regarding the agent before him. The set of his jaw and the threat in Ressler's eyes clear in the flashing lights from the vehicles.

"I regret what happened today. I didn't start down this path. But once Braxton did, I simply finished it to give Lizzie some measure of closure. To leave her half way down that rabbit hole would have done far more harm to her. I have the utmost regard for her well being-"

Ressler inched closer to the criminal. "This is you using people, Reddington. It's what you do. You play with lives and move people around your chessboard like pawns. And I've stood back and watched, because, hell, there's no denying you've got results. But you crossed a line today. And I swear, if you've done ANYTHING to hurt her, I'll-".

"You'll what, Donald?" said Red, interrupting Ressler this time. "Because what I see in front of me is a man who cares very much for Lizzie. And if I were you, I'd put that to good use and help her. Don't stand here berating me when right now, she needs someone to lean on."

Ressler exhaled, looked away then back at Red as the anger in him scaled down a notch. "I don't need you to tell me to take care of her."

Red gave him a very small smile then, defusing Ressler even more. "Excellent. Then get to it. Do not leave her alone tonight. The next 24 hours is critical if she's to overcome this fully." And instead of slapping Ressler on the arm in his usual dismissive manner, Red squeezed his arm almost in comfort. Without another word he moved around Ressler, leaving him standing there catching his breath.

"Ressler!" It was Samar, motioning to him from outside the car.

"Damn it," he hissed and jogged back to her.

"We need to get going, Cooper just called. He wants to see us," Samar explained as he opened the back door and slid inside to sit beside Liz.

Samar leaned in the other door. "I'll sit up front with the driver," she said, with a meaningful nod to Ressler as she closed the door.

And Ressler had to admit he was thankful for that as he turned his attention to Liz. "You alright?" he asked her, tilting his head to look at her.

Dwarfed in his coat, she nodded, "Can we just go, please?" she asked him softly.

"Yes, we can. Do you feel up to talking with Cooper?" he asked her, still leaning down to look at her downcast eyes and feeling more than a little frustrated now for delaying while talking to Red.

"I don't know," she replied.

"If it's too much I'll just get my car and get you right out of there," he assured her.

"Thank you," she said. And though she fought for control, her façade crumbled. "Oh, God…Ress…" she whispered, her lips trembling. And closing her eyes futilely against the rising tide of tears she leaned into him.

"It's okay…" he whispered, as she shook against him, reaching his arm around her and pulling her close against him. As they made their way from the scene and drove through the city streets toward the Post Office, Ressler caught Samar's eyes in the rear view mirror. Had it only been this morning they'd escaped from the oil rig? It felt like forever ago. And in that moment he'd have given anything to go back to yesterday where drug induced memory retrieval techniques were unheard of.

###

As they pulled into the parking lot at the Post Office, Liz was quiet, her tears having abated during the drive. Leaning against Ressler's shoulder with eyes closed against the street lights that blinded her on occasion, they sat quietly in the back seat.

He hadn't spoken to her while she'd rested against him. One - because it wasn't necessary. If silence was what she needed right now, he was giving it to her. And two - he didn't exactly want Samar listening in. Not that he was saying anything out of place.  _And three…I don't want her crying again…_

Talking to Cooper was out of the question though, he'd already determined. And as they pulled in, he nudged her gently. "Hey, we're here, Liz."

Cooper, in that sixth sense that apparently all bosses are endowed with was exiting the elevator as they parked. Samar opened the car door and walked toward him, stopping to speak with him. Ressler watched a moment as his superior leaned heavily on his cane while Liz moved beside him.  _So much for not talking to Cooper…_

As he slid out of the back seat and leaned back in to offer his hand to Liz, she accepted it and scooted over to climb out and stand beside him.

"Cooper is heading this way. Sorry, Liz, looks like I can't get you out of here right away," he told her quietly.

"It's okay…" she said, not convincing him at all.

"Agent Keen…Elizabeth…how are you feeling?" Cooper asked her coming to stand before them, his eyes filled with concern. Ressler looked at his boss again, seeing something … _different_ … in the man. Something … _heavier_ … as if a greater weight were on the man's shoulders. But then the moment was gone and Cooper imperceptibly stood a little taller at Liz's quiet answer that she was fine.

"Well, your version of fine must be very different from mine, because from where I'm standing I see someone who is in need of some rest. We can talk tomorrow or when you're up to it," he told her before gently patting her arm as he turned to Ressler.

"Agent Ressler, would you mind taking her home and making sure she is settled?"

"Of course, sir."

Cooper nodded, looked at Liz again with eyes that softened a little, and then turned toward his vehicle as he bade them goodnight.

As he turned to lead Liz toward his car, Samar came over to them again and lightly touched his arm. "Thank you for today," she told him. "That was too close a call on that chain. So, thank you," she smiled and then with a nod to Liz, was walking away before he could answer.

"What did you do…?" Liz asked him as they arrived at his vehicle.

Ever the quiet achiever, Ressler simply shrugged and gave her his half smile. "Oh, you know. Usual boy scout stuff."

And as she smiled faintly in return, his mood lifted considerably at the change it brought to her eyes.

###

As they drove through the city toward her hotel, he was relieved to see that she wasn't shielding her eyes against the glare of the lights as much. Still bundled up in his coat, she was also no longer shivering.

"You're not staying by yourself tonight, Liz. I'll sleep on the couch, alright?"

"Thank you," she said, looking sideways at him as he drove. "But, you don't have to do that though."

He didn't miss a beat. "I'm not leaving you alone," he told her, looking sideways at her as he raised his eyebrows in affirmation.

She didn't argue with him that time.

Pulling into the parking lot a few minutes later, he parked right outside her room then reached back to get his overnight bag from the back seat. She wasn't moving. "You alright?"

She started at the sound of his voice. "Yeah…" she said, "but I don't have my key…"

When he realized she couldn't remember having given him her spare key, he licked his bottom lip, and regarded her gently "I have one." And jumping out of the car he quickly went around to the passenger door to help her out. "Come on, Liz."

Once inside her hotel room he turned on the small lamp as they stood in her living area. The room was instantly filled with a deceiving warm glow, as it was cold inside. As she sat on the couch looking impossibly lost inside his coat, he set about getting the heat on in the three rooms. Once the whir of the room heaters fired up he came and sat on the small coffee table in front of her.

"Should warm up soon," he told her. As he raised his head to look around the meager accommodations, he looked back at her. "You know, there are times I miss Hotel Red." When she didn't acknowledge him, he touched her knee.

"I'll make you a cup of tea, okay?"

"I don't think I could keep it down, Ress, but thank you," she told him, as a shiver ran through her. "I think I just need to clean up and get some sleep." As she looked up at him, he was again struck by how much smaller and softer she seemed.

He smiled and nodded to her. "I turned the heater on in the bathroom, so it should be warm in there for you," he said, and then stopped when he saw her face crumble as she looked at him.  _Oh, way to go genius…_

"Thank you," she told him as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"It's just a heater, Liz…"

"No…it's you. I don't deserve you to be so kind," she cried, her voice hitching.

He wasn't sure where she was going with this, so stayed silent for the moment and let her talk.

"I don't know what part I have to play in…all of Red's past and…" she caught her breath and looked up at the ceiling as fresh tears fell. "I don't know what I did that brought this about…and I…" as she met his eyes, she stopped and shook her head. "I'm sorry for what happens to you and the team because of me."

His hands were on both her knees as he leaned toward her. He understood what she was trying to apologize for but it was unnecessary and misguided. "Liz, none of this is your fault. If it's anyone's fault, it's Reddingtons."

"I just can't remember. I don't know what I saw or did or heard that he wants from me. I don't know what object or thing is so important to him…" she sniffled, attempting to dry her tears as she looked at him leaning toward her. "I just can't remember…" and dropping her head she closed her eyes and held her forehead in her hand. "And my head is splitting. And my eyes hurt, and I-"

"Liz," he stopped her, leaning closer to her now and gently pulled her hand from her forehead. "Don't try and figure it all out tonight. Go get ready to take a shower, and I'll find some aspirin for your headache."

Nodding slightly, her shoulders sagged as she sighed and as she started to get off the couch he gently pulled her to her feet as he stood. And standing close together between the coffee table and couch, she leaned into him.

"Thank you for being here, Ress."

His hands rubbed her back as she leaned on him. He couldn't take away what had happened to her. But he was damn well going to be there as she struggled through the aftermath.

###

Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom into the warm bedroom, her white robe fastened around her. While she'd been showering, he'd changed into t-shirt and sweats, shedding the government agent persona and replacing him with Don Ressler, average joe. All he needed was a beer to complete the picture. And despite her argument that she couldn't keep anything down, he'd boiled the kettle for tea before making up his bed on the couch. he was standing looking at the short bed wondering how on earth he was going to squeeze comfortably onto that, when she came back into the living room.

"You alright?" he asked her,

"Yeah, I think so," she said, looking at the couch, then gasped as she looked up at him.

As he followed her gaze and landed on his right arm, he pursed his lips. "Oh, that, yeah. Courtesy of one of Braxton's pipe wielding men on the rig. It's fine. Looks worse than it feels," he told her, downplaying it as she eyed the dark bruised welt covering most of his right arm. "But hey, it wasn't me that got shot this time, right?" he said in a weak attempt at humor.

"Right," she agreed, sitting on the blanket covering the couch as he headed to the kitchenette to make tea.

Returning with two mugs, he placed one on the coffee table in front of her and then sat on his pseudo bed beside her.

"Liz-"

"Ress-"

As they both spoke in unison, they stopped and glanced at each other. "You first," they both said together, before stopping and dropping into an easy smile.

"Ladies first," he told her, taking a swig of his tea. As he pondered the inside of his mug, it occurred to him that the only time he drank tea was with Liz. Hell, he'd never even thought to drink it before he met her.

Sipping her drink, she sighed, then looked sideways at him. As she did so he could plainly see that her pupils were still half dilated. A side effect of the drugs. Squashing down the surge of anger that flared, he hurriedly drank down his tea, holding the hot empty cup in his hands.

"I didn't know if you had made it," she told him, meeting his eyes. "When Braxton had me in the helicopter and the rig was on fire, I didn't know if you were…gone."

Placing his cup on the coffee table, he smiled humorlessly. "To tell you the truth, I almost was gone, Liz." He looked at her sharply, licking his lip. "Right before the missile hit I had a gun to my head. I was seconds from being shot through the brain."

"Oh my God…" she whispered, taking another mouthful of tea.

"Yeah. Ironic, huh? The missile saved my life. Though I didn't know it at the time, because we were then on a burning, sinking rig."

"You found Red?"

"Oh yeah, we found him. The man has more lives than three cats joined at the hip." At the mention of his name, her demeanor changed. Shadows crossed her eyes as they focused on a faraway memory. Dropping her head, her hair dropping over her features, she took a shuddering breath.

"Liz..." he was reaching out his hand to her when she pitched her cup toward the coffee table, almost missing the edge. His hand rerouted midair and pushed her cup further onto the table.

"Uh oh." Clambering from the couch, she stumbled through the bedroom to the bathroom, making it just in time as she threw up.

Ressler was already up and waiting for her with a wet washcloth when she raised her head from the toilet. "Thanks," she panted, taking it from him. And as she held it to her face, burying her head in the cool wetness he crouched down in front of her as she perched on the side of the bath.

"Come on, I'll get you in bed, Liz," he told her.  _Oh, shit…_ He immediately added, "That didn't sound right. I mean-"

"Shut up, Ress..." Dropping the cloth from her ashen face she placed it in his outstretched hand and met his eyes. Her lower lip trembling as tears sprang to her eyes, she let him help her up. And as he pulled down the bedding for her she shed her robe and climbed into bed, clad only in panties and a small t-shirt.

He looked away quickly. The sight of her dressed (or undressed) like that catching him off guard. But the sound of her breath hitching drew him immediately back. As sobs rose in her, she let out a wail and buried her head in the pillow. The sound sent a chill up his spine and he was kneeling at her bedside immediately.

"I'm here…I'm here, Liz…" he whispered to her. Grasping her hand as it shot out from under the blanket, he drew close to her. As her wailing continued, he fought back tears of his own.  _That sound. Oh God, that sound…._  Filled with pain and helplessness as the events of the day overtook her, it struck him to his very core.

"Liz..."

Offering some manner of comfort, his other hand found her hair as the wail became a low keening. Helpless and drawn out, speaking of long held secrets now laid brutally bare. And stroking her dark hair, as a father would do for their distraught child, his own tears now fell. His lips found her tear stained cheek, briefly caressing her with them as his own tears blended with hers.

"Liz… I'm here…"

Still grasping her hand and continuing to stroke her hair, the wailing slowed. Whimpering as her breath hitched against the pillow, her shaking settled under his hand. And in complete exhaustion and with the residue of the drugs in her system she fell into an uneasy sleep, her face lying on the tear soaked pillow. And even as she slept she whimpered, her brain not ready to let go yet.

As he kneeled at her side his own shuddering breath mingled with hers. Gently extricating her fingers from his, being careful not to wake her, he rose to his feet with his eyes never leaving her. Knees drawn up in an effort to make herself as small as possible, she lay trembling in the bed.

And without a moment's thought he went to the other side of the bed and pulled the blankets down before gently climbing in beside her. Coming up behind her, his arm wrapped around her trembling form as he held her close. And laying his head on the pillow behind hers, his eyes closed.

And for the first time in a year, he fell asleep holding a woman he cared deeply for in his arms.


	16. Night Lights

_Okay, so I was going to write a chapter on 2x11, the scene where Liz tells Ressler she's in trouble. But the more I thought about it, I realized in my Conversations universe that had already been addressed when she took Ressler to the boat with her. So, I'm going to pretty much ignore 2x11! But I still wanted to get a chapter up, and I couldn't get my head away from Ressler holding Liz in my previous chapter. So, I just needed to stay with them there for a bit longer, (if you don't mind, of course!) He's so protective of her and she's so fragile there, so I couldn't just plow on to their next case just yet!_

* * *

Ressler knew something was different the moment he dragged up from a dreamless sleep to semi awake. Apart from the fact he was pressed up behind his sleeping partner so closely that her hair tickled his cheek, of course.

That was definitely different.

The room was quieter and something felt missing though. The drone of the fridge in the kitchenette and the whir of the window heater were silent. And as he lifted his head off the pillow and opened his eyes to a cold, silent room, it was evident the power had gone out.  _Darn, crappy motel…_  But as he looked toward the window not seeing any street lights either, the room lit up in a brief white flash followed by the distant roll of thunder a few seconds later. Gently lifting his arm off Liz to see his watch, the illuminated clock face read 3:27am.  _Just great._

Liz was no longer trembling but as he lay his head back down on the pillow a whimper escaped her lips. He couldn't see her in the dark. No lights shone through the window blind as the storm clouds hid the half-moon above. Finding her hand he slipped his fingers over hers and with his arm encircling her he settled back down. His brain was waking up now though. His eyes opened again at the thought that he was lying in bed with his partner. Aram hugging Samar had nothing on this.

While they weren't lovers, their bodies were fit together in such a way that it was basically…  _sex without sex…_ And yet, as close as he was to her his body didn't respond in that way. To do so would betray her trust. She was compromised. She was vulnerable. And his decision to lay with her had been borne of a need to shield and comfort her through deep hurt.

And having confirmed his decision to himself, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep again. But the storm had other ideas. The intervals between the lightning and thunder lessened as large drops of rain began thudding against the window. Beside him, Liz whimpered and stirred as a loud clap of thunder sounded overhead. Refusing to give up on sleep just yet, he felt her move beside him and he whispered to her in the dark.

"It's okay, Liz. It's just me here…" he told her, for the first time wondering how she was going to feel waking to find him literally breathing down her neck.

He didn't have time to ponder that thought.

Screaming, she shot upright beside him. "No! No!"

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, his heart jumping in his chest as he sprang upright beside her. As he caught her flailing arms in the pitch black he attempted to subdue her. "Liz, it's me! Calm down, it's me, Ressler!"

"No! I need to get to him! Let me go!"

And in the dark and completely unable to see her, Ressler realized she wasn't talking to him. She was awake, yet still trapped in a dream. "Liz!" he yelled into her ear, trying to reach her. Struggling beside him as lightning lit up the room, she screamed again, disoriented at the flash of light hitting her eyes.

"Let me go! Let me help him!"

He gave up trying to hold her arms and seized her around her middle. As he clutched her t-shirt clad torso in his arms, his arms hugging her as he narrowly missed getting walloped by an elbow, he again yelled at her, "Liz! You're safe. Wake up!"

"It's burning! He's burning! Let me go!" She struggled against him with a strength that caught him off guard. It was the adrenaline surging through her veins though, he knew that much.

"Liz! It's a dream! Calm down!" he called into her ear as she tried in vain to free herself from his grip as lightning lit up the room again. And in her panic she turned her attention to the one who was holding her back. Dodging his head aside as her balled up fists hit him now, he grimaced as one landed on his ear. And as her fists pummeled him, she screamed in the dark.

"I need to get to him! Let me go!" she screamed over the sound of the heavy rain on the window.

"Liz! It's a dream!" She wasn't listening. Dodging another blow that hit him squarely above his right eye, it was his turn to scream at her.

"STOP!"

And as if hit physically, she stopped and fell quiet in his arms. Panting furiously and whimpering with each frantic breath. Her arms dropped, hanging limply at her side as she attempted to focus her eyes in the darkness.

He'd reached her. "It was a dream… you're safe, Liz" he told her gently, still holding her to him as she sagged in his arms.

"Ress?" she turned to his voice in the dark, blinking quickly as another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed closely by a loud clap of thunder.

"Yeah, I'm right here. You're safe, Liz." He leaned his head against hers, loosening his vice like grip and held her more gently. Her body still heaved in his arms as she gasped for air and her heart raced in her chest.

"Everything was burning. I couldn't reach him!"

"I know. It was a dream though," he told her gently, finding her hand and encircling her fingers in his.

"It wasn't a dream. It was a memory. I left my father there and he died in that fire! And I couldn't get back to him!" her voice threatened to break.

Ressler leaned into her as he sat beside her holding her close. "Tell me what else you saw," he encouraged.

"Someone was leading me away. I couldn't see who it was. Why wouldn't they let me go back?" she remembered now, her voice quivering in the dark. And as the lightning flashed again he saw her cheeks wet with fresh tears.

He waited for the thunder to fade before continuing. "Because you would have died too, Liz," he reasoned with her, feeling her strength ebb as she started to sink back down. He loosened his grip from around her and let her lay back as he lay down on his right side to face her.

She rolled her head on the pillow to face him. "I saw my father lying on the floor in a fire he couldn't possibly survive, yet Tom once told me that my father was still alive," she told him, tears rolling silently onto the pillow.

"How do you know you can trust what Tom told you, Liz?" he asked her gently, when inwardly he was picturing himself letting Tom walk away after his phone call to Berlin.  _Never should have let the bastard go!_  His thoughts were drawn back as Liz continued.

"But then Red then told me my father definitely died in the fire. That he didn't survive."

Ressler was about to ask her the same thing regarding Red. That trusting anything Red said was always fraught with risk. But of course, Liz knew that as well as him.

"I'm going crazy with all this, Ress," she told him, her voice hitching in the dark.

He reached out his arm to her, touching her left arm. "Liz, you may never know the truth, not even with what Red attempted today."

Her voice was getting thicker as the lump in her throat increased, "And I don't know how I live with that unknown…"

"You live with it because you don't have a choice, which I know isn't an answer," he told her as he rubbed her arm, feeling her cold skin beneath his warm hand.

"There's such a huge part of me that is unseen and buried and hidden in half truths and lies and deceit and… and husbands who aren't real and fathers who may or may not be alive," she said, as he only made out half of her hitching words now. Which didn't even matter. He got the sentiment loud and clear through the pain in her voice.

"I don't even know who I am!" she said as her voice finally broke and raised to a frantic sob in the dark. And scooting closer to her his arm was around her again as she rolled and buried herself in his chest. As he held her, simultaneously comforting her and furious at what Red had done, he dropped his head and hugged her silently, wanting only to smother her with protection and safety.

Clutching him tightly with her underwear clad body pressed against him, once again his body didn't respond physically. This wasn't about sex. And as she began to calm and her tears eased he felt a shiver run through her. The room was getting colder. As the room lit up in white light again her head came slowly up off his chest.

"Why is it so cold?" she whispered.

"Power's out. Courtesy of the big light show out there, I'm sure," he explained as the rain drummed against the window and lightning filled the room, followed quickly by the roll of thunder. Finding the blankets and bedspread, he pulled them up over them again as they lay together.

And if he could have seen her, he'd have seen a small smile play on her lips as he did that. "Just like the quarry…" she said softly.

"Yes, except we're not literally freezing to death here," he said quietly, fully aware of the memory that had sprung to mind this time.

Her hand found his chest. "Ress…thank you for being here."

He remained silent in the dark. She didn't need to thank him any more than Reddington had told him not to leave her alone tonight.

"I'm so tired…" she said, dropping her head to the pillow. Whatever drugs were still in her system were still exhausting her.

"Get some rest," he encouraged as she drew back a little from him and lay on her side facing him. As another flash of lightning lit up the room, he looked at her face. Eyes closed, hair hanging around her forehead, she looked like a little girl afraid in the dark. And leaning over to her, he kissed her cheek.

Goodnight, Liz."

She didn't answer. She was already asleep.

And as he finally fell asleep beside her the thunderstorm slowly passed overhead. Thirty minutes later the power came back on in the small room, but neither of them was aware of it.

###

The next time Ressler opened his eyes it was daylight. The bed was empty beside him and the sound of the shower running came from the bathroom. The clock on the bedside table flashed 12:00 incessantly, announcing that the power was back on.  _Time to get up._  And after he drew his body out of the bed, he set about making it and throwing the pillows back on it. He'd never understood this need to have extra pillows on beds.

Having got the clock on the right time and the bedroom squared away, he padded into the living room and folded up the blanket that was on the couch.  _The couch I didn't sleep on after all._ In the small kitchenette he found what he needed to get a pot of coffee on and opening the fridge he wasn't surprised to find it mostly bare. But he did find a few eggs and managed to rustle up some scrambled eggs for them. As Liz came out of the shower, once again dressed in her white robe, she smiled.

"You're so domestic, Ress."

"Hey, I try. Sit down before it gets cold," he told her, smiling.

"I'm starving," she told him and together they sat at her tiny kitchen table and ate their meager breakfast.

"You going into work today?" he asked, watching her eyes as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. Her eyes had returned to their normal size which was a relief. Seeing them dilated the night before had been disconcerting, to say the least.

"I'm not sure yet…"

"Cooper would understand if you didn't. He seems to have mellowed lately," he told her, finishing up his coffee and getting up to put their plates in the sink. "So while you decide, I'm going to take a shower and transform myself into a Federal Agent," he told her before grabbing his overnight bag and heading for the bathroom.

As she stood, she smiled at him. "Oh, I quite like the home version of Ressler too though."

He stopped, standing there with his bag over his shoulder. "That's what you say now, until you get to wash my dirty socks," he deadpanned, then turned from her with his half smile on his lips as he entered the bathroom.

She rolled her eyes at him, then went and got changed in the bedroom. As she sat on the bed listening to the sound of the shower, she felt something behind her feet. Bending down she found the box of photos that she had forgotten she'd pushed under there. Dragging it out it she reached down, picking up photos of her and Sam, and childhood photos of dance recitals and picnics. Outlining Sam's face in the photo with her fingertip, she held the photo to her chest.

"I miss you…" she whispered before turning her attention to the other contents of the box.

And there was her half burned bunny. Her constant companion as a little girl. And she wasn't even sure how she even still had it. But here, 26 years after the fire was the bunny she'd clutched to her that night as someone led her to safety - and led her away from her dying father.

As the sound of the running water shut off, she looked more closely at the bunny in her hands. Something was different in the stitching on the back, looking more like a hastily done repair than the factory stitching. And not even sure why, only knowing she had to she tore at the stitches and ripped them apart to reveal something hidden inside.

As she pulled out the bubble wrapped little box from the bunny, holding it in her hand she felt both terrified and elated. Here, finally, was something from that night. Unwrapping the tiny object and looking at it sitting in her hand, her eyes took on a faraway look. How had this got in her rabbit? Who had put it there? What was it? What did it mean?

And she was still sitting there when the door to the bathroom opened, and letting steam out into the bedroom, Ressler came into the room freshly shaven with his suit on.

"Liz…?"

Something was wrong. Crouching down before her, moving the box of photos aside he touched her hand that was closed around something.

"Liz, what's wrong?"

Her eyes found him, as her mouth still hung open slightly. And opening her hand slowly, she revealed the contents. As he looked at the tiny box in her hand, he looked up at her in confusion.

"What is it? Where did you get this…?"

"I have no idea. It was in…" she reached for her torn bunny, "in here… I think it was put in there the night of the fire."

And as he crouched before her they both looked at the tiny box sitting in her hand, both feeling like that tiny box had just opened up far more questions than answers.


	17. Some Days It Feels Like That

_Okay, so I was all excited to watch 2x12, The Kenyon Family after the promos of Ressler pinned by a tree limb and then dragged behind a motorcycle. So when we got to that part, I loved it. But (as usual) it wasn't enough...or more to the point, it wasn't complete. What happened to him after they dragged him out of the vehicle? What happened when they got him (and Amy, the little girl) to their compound? What happened after he and Liz got the upper hand and HRT stormed the place? He just disappeared and we didn't see him again for the rest of the episode! SO many missing pieces that I just had to fill in the blanks. So this is what might have happened and starts just as the boys are about to drag Ressler out of the SUV._

* * *

The tree limb that had Ressler pinned was wedged half in and half out of the vehicle, digging painfully into his left hip and side. Moving did nothing to alleviate the pressure on his ribs. And no matter how many different angles he tried to get leverage on the limb and push, it remained steadfast in its mission to trap him in the vehicle. The sight of it churned his stomach. An inch or two to the right and it would have been a different story. Crushed ribs would have been the least of his concerns with a shattered tree limb impaling him. So with the wayward limb hell bent on staying put, combined with the tree blocking his door from opening, he was well and truly stuck in his seat. And the more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it felt.

Outside the Sheriff's vehicle, someone was approaching through the trees. With its spider web crackling of broken glass, the shattered windshield obscured his view. Assuming it was the sheriff, he called out to her, as the underbrush snapped as the person approached. It wasn't the Sheriff though. The barrel of an old rifle was thrust in his direction and a teenage boy was on the other end of it. Two other teenagers came up beside him as they stared at Ressler in the vehicle.

_They're just kids!_

Glass suddenly shattered, spraying over him and raining down into the back seat.  _The child!_

"Sweetie, come here. Get down! Get down!" Ressler yelled to the tousled haired little girl in the back. Blue eyes peered at him from between the seats as his arm shot out behind him to protect her.

As Amy dropped under his arm in the back seat, his attention was drawn to activity outside the windshield. The vehicle swayed as two of the boys clambered onto the hood, their dark forms obscured in the shattered glass. And in a motion that crushed against his ribs again, the tree limb was suddenly moving as the boys pulled it from the vehicle. The shattered limb dragged past him leaving splinters of wood embedded in his FBI jacket.

In one motion the windshield was peeled back to reveal the dirty faces of two boys. No longer pinned, Ressler's attention was split between the boys in front and Amy in the back. But as he turned back to protect her, the back door was flung open and arms grabbed the little girl away from his hand.

"No!" he cried as her startled eyes met his for a moment before she was dragged out of his sight.

And from the front, arms were reaching in to him and hauling him from the passenger seat. The strength of the boys was astounding as they manhandled him from the vehicle and dragged him onto the hood. These weren't ordinary kids. With their dirty faces, long hair and disheveled clothing, these kids were almost feral. As he rolled off the hood of the vehicle and dropped to the ground he reached for his weapon, drawing it before the kid disarmed him.

And as much as his gut wrenched at holding a gun on a young boy, he stood his ground. "Put her down," he told the kid holding Amy. Her features were calm as the older boy held her, but she never took her eyes off Ressler.

"Let her go!" he told the boy, advancing a step toward him.

From behind him, the lever action of the rifle sounded and the gun barrel was pressed into his spine.

"Drop the gun, FBI."

When Ressler refused, the gun barrel dug deeper into his back. "I said drop it!"

Swallowing hard, Ressler looked behind him to the kid. No more than 16, holding the beat up rifle on him.

"Fine. We'll do it this way," said the boy and instead took a step to Amy and pointed the rifle at her little chest.

"Shit," swore Ressler under his breath and lowered his weapon, only to have it taken from him immediately by one of the younger boys. "It's okay, sweetie," he told Amy, looking into her large blue eyes as the rifle was still held on her.

"Tie him!" the older boy instructed and retrieving rope out of their pockets, two boys tied Ressler's hands in front of him.

He didn't struggle, despite the fact the rough rope was cutting into his wrists, but kept his eyes on the older boy with the rifle on Amy. "Don't you dare hurt her," he told the kid, his voice low and threatening.

Even though Ressler was now tied the kid still held the rifle on Amy as he looked back at Ressler. "Then you had better cooperate, and she'll stay safe."

"Move out!" the boy called to his cohorts and shoving Ressler in front of them, they walked off through the underbrush away from the Sheriff's vehicle. Ressler stole a glance over his shoulder, but there was no sign of the sheriff, or Liz.

The boy holding Amy was in front of him and as Ressler looked at the little girl he smiled briefly at her. She was quiet, but tears were visible on her cheeks now as she steadily looked back at him. "It's gonna be okay, sweetheart," he told her, before he was propelled forward by the rifle wielding boy and almost fell to his knees.

"Don't talk to her!"

As they reached the bottom of the incline a trail wound its way through the trees. Two small motor bikes sat parked there, he now saw. And as Ressler slowed and surveyed their surroundings he was pushed down by the boy behind him, landing on his left side. His ribs and hip let him know they didn't approve as he hit the ground, narrowly missing slamming his head into the trunk of a tree. Another rope was being tied to his feet, and instinctively kicking to stop them he was suddenly looking up into the barrel of the rifle.

"You want me to shoot you right here, FBI? Then quit strugglin'!"

Now was not the time to make a stand, he told himself as he gazed up at the kid. His feet were being tied together, and he realized in horror the rope was also being tied to the back of a motor bike.

"No!" He couldn't get to his feet, and as he tried the boys secured the rope and jumped on the bike, taking Amy with them on a second bike.

"Keen!" he yelled, unsure where she was now. But his shout was obscured under the sound of the bike as it started up. The initial jolt startled him as the rope tightened and he was dragged on his back. Making their way down the trail, the ground was leaf strewn and soft with recent rains. That didn't mean it was a soft ride by any stretch of the imagination. Crying out in pain as his back was dragged over a rocky patch, he grimaced as stones and rocks dug into his body as the bike picked up speed.

"Stop!" he yelled at them, but no one turned back to him.

The trail took another turn downward and as they rounded a bend his shoulder and head were slammed into a small tree on the side of the path. As he dragged past it he screamed, positive it was going to rip an ear off. From ahead of him on the bike he made out the sound of laughter. The bare tree tops above him stood starkly as he passed dizzily below them. And closing his eyes against that view as he was tossed and tumbled over the rocks and underbrush beneath him, all he could hope was that this wouldn't last for too long.

###

His wish was mercifully granted as they rounded another bend a couple of minutes later and the bikes slowed and came to a stop. Lying panting on the ground, his back a mass of painful bruises and his head spinning, Ressler couldn't move. As the boys stood above him with their dirty heads blocking the sky, more boys arrived, circling around him looking downward.

"Is that him?" an older voice asked, breaking into the circle.

Squinting, Ressler tried to make out if it was an adult. It wasn't, but he appeared to the oldest boy here.

"Yeah, he's the Fed, David," one of the younger boys spoke up.

"Get him up and into the hold," said David then turned and walked away as a boy untied Ressler's feet.

As they dragged Ressler to his feet he fell forward, leaning on them a moment and panting. The boys laughed around him.

"He can't even stand up!" jeered one boy, peering upward into Ressler's face.

With an effort Ressler took in a deep breath and stood upright, glaring silently at the boy. "Where… where did you take the little girl?" he asked, but all he got was a leering grin in his face.

"Wouldn't you like ta know!" laughed another boy, and then he was being dragged by his bound hands toward a building. Taking his first look at it, it blended in almost perfectly with its surroundings. Constructed from rusted corrugated tin sheets, it stood long and low to the ground. As they pushed him along he entered the structure and descended a few steps into it, realizing that the bulk of the compound was underground. His eyes darted everywhere, taking in the sight of the large room. Cluttered and with no organization, mismatched and broken chairs were strewn everywhere, haphazardly surrounding a fire drum. Several boys sat around, eyeing him suspiciously as he was led in. On the opposite wall a few stairs led up to another room. What surprised him the most though was that the place had electricity. Somehow they'd tapped into the power lines. For a moment he was impressed, before he was pushed forward again.

"Move it, Fed."

He was led to a smaller roughly built room off the main central room. The 'hold' as David had referred to it. As they shoved him inside he needed to duck a little due to the low ceiling. Once inside, it was almost a mini-me of the main room with several chairs surrounding a fire toward the middle of the room. Several boys followed him in.

"I want his jacket. I want me an FBI jacket," whined one boy.

"Corey, you ain't gettin' his jacket," the other boy replied.

"I want his bullet proof vest," piped up another boy, and before long, an argument ensued as to which boy wanted what. Ressler stood still, letting the scene play out around him. It was crazy. A bunch of kids apparently living out here in the woods, deciding his fate. Or, at least the fate of his attire.  _Talk about Lord of the Flies…_

From behind him, rough hands suddenly shoved him down. As he hit the ground dangerously close to the fire, all hell broke loose. Boys clambered on him tugging at his jacket but soon realized they couldn't get it off him with his hands tied.

"Untie him!" yelled one boy.

"I want his coat!"

Get those ropes off!" yelled another.

Knowing this might actually work in his favor, Ressler shielded his head under them and showed them his bound hands. A large knife made short work of the rope. Ressler took note of which boy had the knife. With his hands untied the boys wasted no time. On top of him, kneeing him and sitting on him, his back screamed under the onslaught as his jacket was ripped off him to the shouts above him. As his lungs struggled for air he felt panic beginning to take hold. He couldn't get the boys off him as their combined weight pushed him into the dirt floor. Panting for breath he grimaced as he again tried to rise to his knees.

"I got it!" yelled one kid as others then tried to take the blue nylon jacket from him.

And still they manhandled Ressler, crushing him under them and now tearing at his bullet proof vest. It was off him in seconds as another kid yelled in glee. "It's mine!"

And suddenly it was quiet in the room and boys lifted themselves up off him, leaving him lying face down on the ground, his hands still untied. His chest heaving as he took in several lung fulls of air at last, Ressler saw the oldest boy standing in the small room. There was no doubt who the leader was around here.

"David, we-"

"Be quiet. Get him tied again and sit him over there," David told the boys, then bent down to look at Ressler.

Before David could speak, Ressler asked him through clenched teeth, "What did you do with the little girl, Amy. Where is she?"

David looked at him, a glint of something in his eyes that Ressler immediately found distasteful. "You want her for yourself? Well, she's gonna be my bride," David leered at him.

Ressler launched himself at David with a speed that took them by surprise. Aiming low and hard he rammed into the kid's knees, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. As he pulled himself up the kid to wipe that leer off his face, hands were on his arms hauling him off David.

"Get off me!" he hissed at them, glaring at David who was still smirking at him from the ground. Hauling Ressler to his feet the three older boys had his hands tied again and threw him onto a small chair by the wall. Panting, he sat there looking at David who had picked himself up off the floor.

"If I were you, I'd behave. You never know what might happen with a bunch of little girls at our disposal," said David, choosing his words carefully as he twirled a large knife in his hands now.

Ressler glared silently at the young leader. His hands were tied, both figuratively and physically.

"Where is his partner? There were two FBI agents," David asked the boys who had brought Ressler in.

"We didn't see his partner."

"Then get back out there. She is out there and I want her brought in too," he ordered, then looked at Ressler again. "Like I said, it will go much easier on others if you cooperate."

Again Ressler glared at David. "Oh, I know how to cooperate," he told the kid, then stared until David looked away and left the room.

And as Ressler sat there, leaning his head against the wall and trying very hard to suppress the urge to strangle somebody, one of the boys who was guarding him from across the room spoke up.

"All you Feds are gonna burn in hell. The day is coming, you know that?"

Ressler didn't even look at the kid, having heard the same thing from Amy. "Yeah. That's so yesterday's news."

###

Some time later Ressler heard a commotion in the larger room to his left. Someone was being brought in, to the whoops and hollers of some of the younger boys. His heart sank. It had to be Liz. And in confirmation he heard her voice through the makeshift door demanding to speak with David. Instinctively, he rose from his seat but his own gun was shoved toward him from one of the boys guarding him.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," said the boy quietly.

Ressler glared at the kid, but sat down and focused on Liz's voice. She was asking about Amy and the reply churned his stomach as he heard David's voice talking about her being one of his wives. And gritting his teeth against that sickening comment, he then heard Liz again.

"And the man? Ressler? What have you done with him," her voice came through the door to him.

_I'm in here Liz. Guarded by freakin' feral children…_

And a few moments later the door to the hold was open and through the gap behind the two dirty, long haired teens, he saw Liz sitting on one of the many benches around the fire. She appeared unhurt to his relief. His attention was drawn back to the two boys as he was now hauled out of the small chair, igniting his back muscles in pain.

"See, he's alive," said David.

Ressler locked eyes with Liz across the fire, as each silently asked the other if they were okay. In the next instant he was forcefully thrown toward her. And for the second time that evening he fell dangerously close to an open fire. Hitting the ground hard beside Liz he looked behind her and saw her fingers moving as she toyed with the rope around her wrists. Grimacing in pain, he leaned toward her, grunting. And in one swift unseen motion, had the ropes off her wrists.

As they rose to their feet taking the boys by surprise, Liz had the rifle in her hands as panic ensued.

"Freeze! Step away from him!" And as David broke for it and ran, Samar and the HRT boys were everywhere, swarming the compound as Ressler lurched forward and stood unsteadily to the side of Liz.

###

Having been handed his vest and jacket by one of the HRT men, Ressler felt much more like himself in his uniform. Liz and Samar had run outside in pursuit of David but after donning his vest and jacket quickly, he walked to the gathered boys. His target was different.

Guarded by several HRT, Ressler nodded to the agent who let him through to talk to the boys.

"Where are you keeping the girls? Where did you take Amy?" he asked them, but got no answer. In silent accord, the boys had joined ranks and weren't saying a thing.

"Where did you take Amy when we arrived?" he asked one of the boys who had brought him in. The kid simply looked at him silently, and then looked away as if bored with the conversation.

Grimacing in frustration, Ressler shook his head and left the group of boys. Rounding up 3 HRT agents, he told them to follow him. As they walked into the night air, he didn't see where Liz had gone at first. But when he saw her near a white van talking with David inside it he hesitated, almost going to her. But finding the girls was his priority right now. Finding Amy. Leading the men behind the compound, he had them fan out with instructions to look for something that would indicate an underground cellar or hold.

The night was growing colder as he jogged through the trees, weapon drawn and in radio contact with the other searchers. Nothing was out of the ordinary though, as he shone his flashlight around him under the trees.

"Dammit." He knew they had to be close. David would have kept them close to where the main compound was. Radioing to the men, he had them double back and search more to the east end of the compound this time. And again jogging under the trees, the four of them fanned out searching with their flashlights.

He wasn't so much looking for a structure, but more signs of heavier foot traffic in one area. And approaching the compound again from the rear, he saw exactly what he was looking for. Turning to his left he came upon an open area of woods. Lifting his radio, he had the men join him. As they fanned out in this new clearing, one of the men literally tripped on something and fell. And as Ressler jogged over and they all shone their flashlights down to the ground, he smiled.

It was an air vent, sticking up out of the ground. "Find the trapdoor!" he yelled and scrambling around among the trees, moving the leaves away they found it within a minute. Ressler radioed for more men as they dropped to the ground and slowly opened the trapdoor. Peering into the dark, he shone his flashlight inside and saw steps leading downward.

And at the bottom of the stairs a little dark haired, blue eyed girl looked up at him. "Mr FBI man," she said.

He smiled and climbed down to her, illuminated in the flashlights of the HRT men who were now following him down the steps. Dropping to his knees in front of Amy he faced her and quickly shone his flashlight over her. She appeared to be okay.

"Hey, sweetheart, how about we get out of here?" he asked her, looking briefly around him as the other girls came out of the shadows toward the HRT men.

Ressler picked up his radio again. "Keen!" She didn't answer. Swooping Amy up in his arms, she clung to his neck as he climbed the staircase and stepped out into the trees again. Behind him, one by one, the girls climbed up the stairs to stand in the clearing as FBI, medics and local law enforcement ran up with blankets and first aid to tend to the missing girls. Taking an offered blanket, he wrapped it around the little girl in his arms.

"We have a bus over there, sir, that we can ferry these girls out of here," one of the agents informed him.

He nodded to the agent and walked away, leaving the scene and heading for the compound. "You alright?" he asked Amy and she nodded in reply, her arms still around his neck. As he approached the compound, the trail lit with flashlights as agents made their way to and from the underground cell, he was met by a familiar figure walking toward him.

They stopped on the path, alone for the moment. "Hey," they both said in unison.

Liz patted Amy on the back. "You okay, Amy?" and the little girl nodded in reply. Liz looked at Ressler again. "We have a bus over there to take the girls… and boys… to town where there are apparently a large group of parents and family waiting at the Town Hall.

"Does she have someone waiting…?" asked Ressler, indicating Amy. Liz looked at the little girl and shrugged. They didn't have those details yet. They turned and walked together to the waiting bus. And as they stood by it, the headlights of vehicles lit up the road below the compound. As the vehicles parked, men and women ran up the slope toward the large gathering of law enforcement.

A police officer turned to them. "Those are the families, sir. Once word got to them that we'd found the boy's compound they left and headed up here. We couldn't stop them."

A young woman was charging toward them. "Oh my god! Oh my god!" she was calling and Ressler realized she was looking at Amy. Hurtling to them, she stopped and looked in wonder at the little girl.

"Are you related to her, ma'am'?" asked Liz, her hand protectively on Amy's back.

"I'm her aunt! My sister was one of the ones…" she choked back tears. Her sister was one of the ones massacred in the church. "Amy, it's your aunt, remember?"

The little girl peered out from around Ressler's neck, looking at the woman. "Chocolate chop cookies," she said, and Meg burst into tears. "That's right, we baked chocolate chip cookies last time I saw you," she cried.

"Aunt Meg," said Amy. As Ressler looked at Liz, she nodded imperceptibly and he leaned over and let Meg take the little girl from his arms.

As the woman about crushed Amy in her arms, sobbing for her lost sister and found niece, Ressler watched them. He felt a hand on his arm and looked quickly at Liz who was motioning him away.

He leaned over to Amy, "Bye, sweetie," he told her.

She turned to him, "Bye bye, Mr FBI man."

And still he couldn't walk away, as Meg tearfully smiled and nodded to him. He felt Liz's hand on his arm again and reluctantly followed his partner, leaving Amy in the company of her aunt.

"One day, Ress," Liz said softly, stopping in a quiet spot near the compound.

"Hhmm?" he questioned, watching Meg take Amy down the hill toward the vehicles.

"One day you will make a wonderful daddy to a little girl or boy," Liz told him rubbing his arm as they turned and headed for one of the FBI vehicles to head off the mountain.

And as they walked together, watching the girls being reunited with family members, he realized that what he'd told Amy wasn't exactly true. Not all days felt like he was going to hell.


	18. Massacre

_Here is an additional short piece on 2x12 "The Kenyon Family", specifically for VBF after she mentioned this scene. To be honest, I had almost written on it, but then stuck with Ressler after he was taken by the boys. But this scene, when Ressler and Liz storm into the church and find the massacre is SO touching in the way they look at each other. So here is my 'take' on this scene._

* * *

As the sun rose over the property, they ran through the morning light charging toward the stone building. The Church of the Shield lay before them now. Tall and imposing, the grey granite building was more a fortress than a church. It was the place where Justin Kenyon's followers worshipped and lived.

With silent signals Ressler, Liz and Sheriff Starkweather crouched in the minimal cover afforded by the bare trees. As the armed agents stormed forward, Ressler flew after them with Liz in tow. Running across the courtyard in the cold morning air, the building loomed over them.

But something wasn't right. It was far too quiet. Justin Kenyon had dropped off the radar three days ago, but where were his followers? Why was no one about? At the sight of a sickle pushed through the door handles, Ressler felt his stomach drop. Something was very, very wrong. He looked across at Liz on the opposite side of the entrance. Her weapon at the ready as she stood poised, breathing in the cold morning air, she met his gaze. She felt it too.

As the armed agents removed the sickle from the door handles, Ressler positioned himself behind the guy on his side, while Liz did the same on her side. They were ready, and with a nod to the men they pulled open the two heavy doors. Blinded momentarily in the bright morning light, Ressler followed them into the interior of the building, weapon at the ready. Liz was right behind him, and as they took a couple of steps inside, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust in the dimmer light.

It wasn't their eyes that realized what they had just stormed into though. The odor assailed them, overwhelming their senses. Death. Rotting corpses - and lots of them. Their ears followed, alerting them to the sound of buzzing flies. Even in the winter cold the flies had discovered a mammoth source of food.

And as their eyes adjusted, confirming what their noses and ears had already discovered, Ressler heard Liz gasp as she stood close behind him to his left. As he stood still, unable to take a further step into the room, their surroundings became clear. Horrendously so.

_Oh my God._

Strewn across the floor like discarded cords of firewood, the bodies surrounded them. Unable to fathom exactly how many victims lay around them, Ressler holstered his weapon and slowly took in the scene. Broken chairs lay everywhere and as he focused more, it was evident that the broken chairs had become weapons. Broken chair legs lay impaled in bodies. Through stomachs, eyes, and mouths. This was no clean kill. This was butchery. Savage, inhumane brutality.

Women and men lay everywhere. The protruding stomach of a near term pregnant woman caught his eye. And once seen, he couldn't look anywhere else. The unborn child had died inside its mother, caught in a savage beating and torturous death. The most innocent of victims.

Dragging his eyes away from the pregnant woman and her dead infant, he sought out the one person in the room he needed at that moment. Turning slowly to his left he met her waiting eyes. She met his gaze, her own eyes wide with horror as she panted in sharp shallow breaths. She needed him just as much. Clinging to each other's eyes as he slowly turned to face her, they were unable to touch for the moment. Yet they searched for and found the solace they needed at that moment in their partner. They stood together amidst the death and massacred bodies around them - a safe island in the middle of a brutality that neither of them had ever witnessed first hand before.

Ressler was the first to move. Reaching up his hands he held her upper arms and gently turned her, facing her toward the entrance again. And when she didn't, or couldn't move, he gently placed his hand on her back and urged her forward, one hand on her back and one holding her right arm. He needed to get her out of there. Hell, HE needed to get out of there. Forget years on the job - NO amount of training was ever going to make a scene like this tolerable.

As they stepped out into the bright sunlight again, his arm was now around Liz's shoulders, leading her away from the building. Sheriff Starkweather approached to ask something but he simply stared at her and shook his head slowly, briefly holding up his hand to ward her off. In horror, she looked quickly toward the church, understanding that something unbearable lay within.

"My God…" Liz found her voice, whispering as he led her to a quiet corner of the building. "Have you ever seen-"

"No," he interrupted as his eyes darted wildly, attempting to find something else to rest on and obliterate the scene from his mind.

"Oh my God…" she repeated, swallowing hard as she leaned against the grey stone bricks. Ressler stood in front of her, looking at her now. Her eyes met his again as her hand briefly touched his chest in support.

"I know…there had to be thirty at least in there," he said, glancing back up toward the double entrance doors in time to see Sheriff Starkweather step inside. Exhaling heavily, he moved and leaned on the wall heavily beside Liz. So close that their arms were touching, they consciously leaned into each other.

"There was a pregnant woman…" she said hesitantly, the image starkly fresh in her mind.

"I saw her," he replied, leaning his head back on the wall and swallowing hard. And the thought he couldn't get out of his mind was how long had the baby survived in its dead mother until he or she succumbed.

"Shit." Suddenly unable to stand still a second longer as the scene invaded his memory, he launched himself off the wall. Walking down toward the line of trees they'd taken cover in before storming the building, she followed him, walking briskly two steps behind him. And under the bare trees again, they stood together and turned back toward the building as the Sheriff came outside hurriedly. She walked three more steps then leaned on the wall and threw up. Ressler didn't blame her one bit for that reaction.

Looking up at Ressler beside her, he met her eyes in the morning light.

"We have to go back in there," they both said in unison to the other, then nodded together. The fact they were so intune as to have voiced the same thought at the same time was lost on them in that moment. Their minds instead back in a blood filled massacre of death.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "But not right now. They're not going anywhere and the scene is secure until the Coroner arrives."

As Liz stood looking at the large building, a thought occurred to her. And as she turned to him her eyes widened. "Ress!"

"What?" he asked her.

"There were no children in there. Where are the children?!"

His eyes darted to the building and together they sprinted over to it. As an armed agent came outside, Ressler yelled over to him.

"Search the building! The children are missing! Find them!"

And as they plowed inside the double doors again, this time they averted their eyes from the carnage before them and sprinted toward the interior rooms of the building. They had something new to focus on now, and while the horror of the massacre still lay dead and bloody inside the sanctuary, now their task was to focus on the living.

With a glance and nod to each other they drew their weapons and began their search of the building, focused once again on the job at hand, knowing their partner had their back.


	19. Decision Time

_I really, really loved 2x13 The Deer Hunter. What an excellent Ressler episode! The writers finally gave him some good screen time and two excellent dialogs with Liz. His speech to her at the end was outstanding! Kudos to Diego for the way he delivered that one! See that writers? If you give Diego scenes that don't involve him just staring at monitors in the bullpen during briefings or sitting beside Liz as they interview people, he ALWAYS delivers. More please! I loved how he stopped her killing the deer hunter – just like she stopped him killing Jonica. There are so many parallels in their relationship. (And his expression of horror/amazement as he looked up at her in that scene was wonderful). So my chapter takes place right after his speech and he's finished up with, "No. Don't make me feel your pain, Liz. I've got more than enough of my own."_

* * *

As Ressler walked away from Liz with the echo of his last words ringing in his ears, he angrily blinked back unwanted tears.  _Damn it, get a grip._ Heading away from the red and blue flashing lights, he found his SUV and sat down roughly in the driver's seat. Wiping his sleeve across his eyes, he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes for a moment and tried to steady his breathing.

_Damn it!_

Opening his eyes again he looked beyond the police lights and the double story brick house and focused instead on the yellow glow of a street lamp down the block. Which was fine for a moment; until it brought back the scene in the basement that had been lit by a single, off white bulb. The sight of Liz strangling the woman with her thighs and choking the life from her. And if he hadn't got there in time, Liz would likely be in cuffs right now for murder.

Which was rather ironic, since she hadn't killed the woman yet was about to admit to something that would have her hauled off in cuffs and marked as a murderer anyway. And it would destroy her. It would destroy the task force. And the thought that rose unbidden in his mind as he sat in the semi dark was that it could destroy him too.

The one thing that had kept him going through Audrey's death and the entire 'I need pain pills to function' experience had been the job he did on the task force. It gave him purpose. It gave his life meaning. He shook his head against his own thoughts. It wasn't just the task force that had achieved that. It was Liz. And now she was going to throw all of that down the drain and this…thing…they had building between them would be over. His best friend was going to… _nail herself to a cross_.

And as he leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes again, the passenger door opened and the partner who was causing him so much grief was suddenly sitting beside him.

He didn't say anything, merely rolled his head and looked at her and then turned toward the front again.

"You know, you're awfully cute when-"

"Don't. I am not in the mood, Liz."

Her attempt at humor falling short, she plowed on, "Okay. But hear me out. If one of our Blacklisters was covering up a murder by hiding behind Federal resources, you'd be arresting them in a minute. Am I right?"

He sighed heavily and kept his eyes on the street light down the block. He really hated it at times when she was right.

"You know I'm right. Because it's the right thing to do, Ress. To own up to one's crimes, to-"

He whirled on her. "You didn't commit a crime, Liz. Tom is the one who murdered the guy."

"You don't think keeping a man chained in a ship's hold for 4 months and then covering up the fact he killed a guy in front of me is a crime?" Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and looked away from him.

"Fine, that was wrong," he relented, glancing at her before he too returned his gaze to the front. "But marching into Wilcox's office and handing yourself over to him isn't the answer."

"Ress…"

Something in her tone made him turn back toward her. Her voice softened as she spoke again.

"Ress, I'm in over my head here and I'm trying to find the right way out of this. And this is how I've chosen to handle it."

He sighed, and looked downward a moment before meeting her gaze again. "Regardless of what that does to the task force and the work we do. What about Cooper? What about Aram and Samar? What about…me. What are we going to do once Reddington is out of the picture with you gone?"

She bit her lip, and looked across at him. "I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know what else to do. I'm torn between doing what's right by the law and hiding behind the law!"

"I tell you what you need to do. Get that sorry ass of your ex husband back and let him face the music for what he did. Not what you did. But what HE did." His voice rose as he spoke, picturing Tom Keen walking away from them after his phone call to Berlin.

_Hey pal. I'm coming for you._

As she opened her mouth to answer he held up his hand to her, cutting her off. "You never should have let him go, Liz."

She didn't like his tone, and her voice rose to match his. "And where am I supposed to find him, huh? He's dropped off the face of the earth."

"I don't know, Liz," he hissed, "but that is what we need to do here. You don't need to take the fall for this guy."

Liz was watching the clench of his jaw, seeing the anger that he was barely keeping in check. "That isn't going to happen, Ress. I wouldn't even know where to start looking."

He glared at her, "Then get your pal Reddington onto it and have him start looking."

"He's not my pal," she told him, trying very hard not to sound like a petulant child.

He chuckled humorlessly. "Seriously Liz, this is a mess. And whatever tiff you have going with Reddington needs to be set aside. Because believe me, the only way you're going to get out of this is to find Tom Keen. And I don't think it's too much to ask that you try that before going to Wilcox."

Liz was looking out the window at the same street lamp that Ressler was focused on. "Jelly Bean…" she said quietly, remembering something.

"What?"

"This guy that Red knows. Little dude. He can apparently find anyone…" her mind was back at the DMV, sitting with Red while they waited amongst the cold infested, sneezing masses for Red's number to be called.

Ressler tilted his head to her, "Well there you go. Like I said, Reddington is the one who can find Tom Keen. Hell, he's probably on Red's Blacklist to begin with."

Liz looked at him quickly. "You think so? I don't know… though there have been times I've wondered if Tom is a Blacklister."

Ressler simply raised his eyebrows and looked at her. "It would not surprise me one bit."

"But the chances of finding him quickly are remote, and in the meantime Wilcox has enough evidence to put me away for a long time. So it's a moot point, Ress. I'm still back here and no closer to a solution."

"Well, the least you can do is ask to meet Reddington in the morning before you go and nail yourself to a cross, agreed?" he asked her. He realized his tone was still harsh, because hell, he was still thinking about how the fallout from this was going to affect the task force.

When she didn't answer, he looked over to her seeing the distant look in her eyes.

"He bought me an apartment…" she said, not looking at him.

He pursed his lips, then nodded.  _Of course he did. Nothing but the best for daddy's girl._ "Then why are you still in that crap motel?" he asked her. Taking a deep breath to try and defuse the anger within, and failing miserably, he continued. "Because Liz, you deserve better."

"I didn't accept it. The key is in an envelope in my desk drawer," she answered, looking squarely at him.

He couldn't help it. It came out before he could stop himself. "What the hell is wrong with you? You've been living out of a suitcase for months. And you get handed an apartment and you don't take it?" he hissed at her, shaking his head.

"Whatever dealings I have with Red from now on are going to be strictly business," she replied, then stopped as he snorted at her. "What?"

"Just listen to yourself. It's never going to be strictly business with Red. Whatever he is to you, it's more than business. And his DNA may not match yours, but hell, he knew a guy who could change DNA. But Liz, the man cares. There is NO denying that. So you may think it's just business, but it isn't. He treats you like a daughter. It's plain as day, Liz."

"He isn't my father though. He left my father inside a burning house," she retorted and suddenly her breath hitched and tears sprang to her eyes. She brushed them away hoping he hadn't seen.

He saw. And the anger he'd been trying to defuse the entire time melted away. And he was back in her crap motel a few weeks ago, lying protectively in bed beside her broken soul the night she'd found that out. Reddington might care for her like a daughter. But he cared too. He just wasn't sure what to do about that… and he knew his anger had been his reaction to…losing her.

"Look, it's late and the guys are clearing out." As he spoke another police car left the scene leaving them and one other FBI black SUV on site. "Why don't I just drop you off at your…" he looked at her and managed a half smile, which he was quite proud of, "at your lovely motel," he finished.

She sighed and briefly touched his arm and mustered up a small smile of her own. "Thank you…it's been a hell of a day," she replied, looking over his shoulder and back at the two story house. He knew where her thoughts were. Same place as his - choking a woman to death.

And while she'd brushed the tears away at the thought of her dead father, now she couldn't hold them back. "God, I could have killed her! I would have killed her!"

He'd been about to start the car but stopped with his hand on the key in the ignition. Looking quickly at her, it was his turn to touch her arm. "But you didn't Liz. She's alive and in custody. She'll be fine."

"Thanks to you!" she cried, looking helplessly at him.

He squeezed her arm, looked away, then back at her. "And you did the same for me once, remember?"

Of course she remembered. Seeing him broken in the snow and about to kill Jonica had been terrifying and heartbreaking. She nodded, wiping her tears away. "I remember."

He spoke quietly now, leaning toward her. "Not my finest hour Liz, but you were there and stopped me. And I returned the favor tonight."

She nodded, meeting his eyes. "We're so much alike, Ress… we go through the same things…"

He'd picked up on that. "I know, Liz." And as he looked at her, seeing her wiping her tears away he let his guard down. "And it's not just the task force that will fall apart without you. I'm afraid I will too." He looked away, back at the street light.

She couldn't answer him and squeezed his arm firmly. And the tears she'd got under control started up all over again. "I don't know what to do, Ress. I need to make a decision and yet…"

"Just meet with Reddington in the morning and see if he can get this jelly bean guy to start looking for Tom. I honestly think that's your only way out of this, Liz." As he looked at her, the other SUV left the scene and the driver nodded to them as he passed.

"But for now, let me get you home, okay?" he said gently

She nodded and looked at him, "To my lovely motel, right?"

"Exactly. Shame you don't have some nice apartment instead, but hey…" he said and looked at her, a smile playing about his lips before turning his eyes back to the road and starting the ignition.

As he pulled out into the street and made their way through the residential area, she looked quietly across at him. "If I go to jail, you can have my nice penthouse apartment with a view of the Potomac," she said at another attempt at humor.

He looked sharply across at her, sucking in a breath before returning his eyes to the road ahead.

"Too soon to joke about that, right?"

He exhaled then, "Yeah, just a tad. Let's get through this first, Liz."

As he stopped at a set of lights, she reached for her phone, wiped the last of her tears and dialed a number.

As the phone was picked up on the other end she spoke into it, looking at Ressler as she did so. "Hey, I need to see you in the morning. Meet me at that café you mentioned last week, at say 7:00am?" she waited a moment as Red spoke, then continued, "Okay, I'll be there." As she slid her phone back in her pocket, he looked at her.

"So what did you decide? Say goodbye to Red before you go to Wilcox, or ask him to find Tom?" he asked, almost afraid of her answer.

"I honestly don't know," she replied, watching the streetlights as they drove toward her motel.

He sucked in a breath of air as he drove, and wondered what tomorrow would bring. Would it end with Liz in handcuffs with her picture on every newspaper with the headline he'd told her earlier that day? Or would Red start looking for her ex husband.

And as he stole a glance at her, needing his partner more than he even liked admitting to himself, neither prospect thrilled him.


	20. Anniversary

_This isn't from an episode, because the last two weeks Liz Fest on the episodes has completely underwhelmed me - we want Ressler! So this is just something I wanted to put up about the day Ressler's life changed forever._

* * *

As the sun rose on the eastern horizon, the overcast sky was filled with a pale pink glow as the last vestiges of night faded. Snow was threatening and the bare trees shuddered as gusts of wind wrapped around them. Ressler sat in his car with eyes downcast only vaguely aware of the colors touching the sky in the dawn light. His black SUV was the only vehicle in the parking lot at this time of day.

Having left his apartment 45 minutes ago, he'd been waiting about 10 minutes for the cemetery gates to open. And part of him was 'okay' with the reason he'd come. It was something he needed to do today. The other part of him just wanted to leave and head for the Post Office and let work take over his thoughts. Another day that would be filled with Liz facing a murder charge and the growing need to find Tom Keen in order to exonerate her. And as much as the ex husband of his partner caused his gut to clench, part of him would rather be facing that than where he was now.

The cemetery sat empty with the gates still closed against the day's visitors. At sunrise the gates would open and as he raised his eyes to the rear view mirror, he noticed the pink hues in the eastern sky. And right on cue as the sunlight touched the bare tree tops around him, a lone golf cart made its way through the cemetery and stopped at the gate. Ressler waited as the trustee unlocked the gate, hearing the metallic creak as the gates swung open.

As the trustee drove quietly away in the golf cart, Ressler started the ignition, backed out of the parking bay and drove slowly through the wrought iron gates. Entering the cemetery he drove a short distance before parking below a slight hill that sloped up and away from the road. Headstones dotted the ground. Granite markers being all that were left of lives and loves lost. Of husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters all gone from sight but never forgotten in their loved one's hearts. And at the top of the hill his fiancé and lost child lay among them.

Pulling his coat collar up against the expected cold air he picked up the small bouquet from the passenger seat and exited the vehicle. At least he'd remembered flowers today. He'd forgotten them at her funeral.  _But Liz had brought some…_  Dropping his gaze to a white headstone as he walked by, he sighed, noting the age of the deceased woman. Twenty two years in this world. He wondered briefly what had taken her. Was she gunned down by a bullet also? Was her fiancé to blame too? He left the gravestone of the dead woman behind him and continued his walk up the hill, choosing not to look at the headstones now. A gust of wind hit him, tugging at him. Shivering, he dropped his head as his coat flapped around his legs and continued walking toward his fiancé's grave.

###

At 7:45am, Liz walked into the Post Office juggling her shoulder bag from hand to hand as she took her coat and gloves off. As she approached her office, she was greeted by Aram.

"Liz, good morning. Have you heard from Agent Ressler this morning? I tried to call him, but it's just going to voice mail." Aram looked questioningly at her as she shook her head.

"He's not here?" she asked, looking quickly toward their shared office where the lights were off. "He's always here before me..." she mused, looking at her watch and then back to Aram.

"Why do you need him?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't, but Director Cooper asked me to send him up as soon as he got here. Mr Reddington will be coming in soon, apparently to talk to Agent Ressler and Director Cooper," Aram explained as Liz involuntarily lifted her eyes to their bosses office.

Samar overheard them from her desk and came over, sipping coffee. "Perhaps he's caught in traffic. They have that St Paddy's day parade downtown today and were barricading streets when I came through."

Aram looked toward her as she stood in front of his laptop. "Perhaps. But that wouldn't explain why he's not answering his phone, right?"

Liz glanced at Samar. Something she said was ringing a bell in the back of her mind. St Patrick's day…what was it about St Patrick's day…?

"Earth to Liz..." Aram interrupted her thoughts as she leaned on his desk with a distant look in her eyes.

Her head shot up and meeting his eyes, she looked at him then quickly to Samar. "Oh, my gosh! Tell Cooper I'll be back as soon as I can!" And without further explanation, she headed briskly for the elevator, holding her bag in her teeth as she pulled her coat back on, leaving Aram and Samar looking after her.

"Was it something I said…?" asked Aram to no one in particular, missing the faint smile Samar gave him as she looked at him over his laptop screen.

###

As Ressler leaned down to place the flowers in the granite vase on Audrey's grave, the first small flakes of snow began to fall. He paid no attention to them though as he concentrated on her gravestone. It was beautiful. White granite, and while not an angel as such, the edges of the stone lifted gently at the sides like closed wings giving it a soft and graceful appearance.  _Just like you, sweetheart…_ The engraving bore into his eyes as he read the words. He'd read them plenty of times. But today, they held more meaning. Today, on March 17th, 2015 they held his eyes hostage.

Audrey Bidwell  
August 24th, 1982 - March 17th, 2014  
Loving daughter and sister  
Taken from us too soon

It didn't mention fiancé...  _or mother_. He wasn't really surprised at that yet it still hurt. Her life with him hadn't been mentioned. But that was understandable. Her relationship with him had ended her life one year ago today.

He placed the fingers of his right hand lightly on the white granite. "Sweetie…I'm sorry." His voice sounded hollow in the cold air, and raising his eyes to the sky as tears sprang to them, he blinked them back. "If I could change what happened, I would."

Dropping his head and turning away briefly, he noticed the snow that had started to fall in the still empty cemetery. No one was in sight as he looked down the slope toward his vehicle, now obscured through the larger flakes. Snow would forever signify Audrey and what had happened in the aftermath of her death. Shoving his hands in his coat pocket he turned back to the gravestone. Standing before it, he shivered, and not just with the cold.

"I miss you, sweetie. I miss us. I have friends I guess, but I miss you," he told her softly, as snow flakes lightly covered the pink and white roses in her vase. They would barely last a couple of hours in this cold, but that was okay. She loved pink and the white was for their unborn child. He'd brought them for her and he figured she'd understand that they wouldn't last long. He half smiled at that. Funny how he still imagined her right there, listening to him and agreeing or disagreeing with what he was saying.

Dropping his head further into his coat collar, he sniffed a little as the cold settled into his reddening nose and ears. "It's been a year Audrey… a whole year since I held you as you died. I didn't want you to die. I needed you to hang on. But it was your time, and I've had to accept that. But it's been hard. It's been a rough year."

Leaning down again he softly brushed the snow off the roses, being careful not to dislodge the petals. He cupped one white rose delicately in his frozen fingers. "Our baby would have been about 3 months old now, sweetie. I think I'd have been an okay dad. Maybe not father of the year because I'd rarely be home… but I know you'd have been an awesome mom."

Standing up again, he looked into the distance, remembering something. "I met a little girl a few weeks ago, and she was beautiful. You'd have liked her sweetie. Her name was Amy and she was kinda lost..." his voice trailed off, recalling the dark haired, blue eyed little girl. "But she should be okay now, thanks to what we did at the compound."

Drawing his eyes back he again focused on the date on her gravestone.  _March 17_ _th_ _, 2014... the day I held you in the street and begged you not to leave me..._ And he was back there again on the cold ground. Cradling her close against him and feeling her blood spilling onto his hands and his tears sliding into her hair. Remembering the desperation that had risen in his heart as he'd clutched her to him. And the realization that had hit him as he'd held her, knowing that life was fleeting. Knowing that he'd made one wrong move.

A lone bird called as it flew above him, interrupting his thoughts. He watched it fly past and settle onto the bare limb of a tree, noticing that it was the tree he and Liz had stood under at the funeral. She'd been there for him as he'd crumbled that day. She'd always been there for him…

_Liz…_

He exhaled heavily, causing a cloud of vapor around his face. "Sweetie, I know you're gone, and I'm supposed to 'move on'…but that's not so easy." He shifted slightly, easing the pain in his cold feet. The snow was falling heavily now, making it difficult to even see his car parked down the hill. As his ears numbed and his nose ran even more, he sniffed and continued talking to his dead fiancé in the falling snow.

"You'd like Liz. You and her are...were... a lot alike. And I think you'd understand and be okay with it, but she's become my best friend. She and I share a lot of common ground. I lost you, and she lost her dead beat of a husband. We've been through similar experiences..."

Unable to continue, he sighed, looking up at the sky as the snow landed on his upturned face. Closing his eyes, he allowed the snow flakes to softly touch his face. Like fingers... like Audrey's fingers caressing him... He dropped his face to look at the gravestone again. "It's complicated..."

"I'm doing okay though, sweetie. I've had some rough patches. Some bad days. But mostly good days of late, I think," he stopped, remembering something. "Oh, and you'd find this amusing. The bain of our existence, Mr Raymond Reddington, has helped me with things where no one else could." He stopped again, recalling flying back from Sitka and staying at Hotel Red for a few weeks after that. He half smiled now, looking down at the white granite before him. "He's complicated too. I was hunting him, and lost you because of it. And it turns out he was hunting me, and brought you back to me." He shivered again, "So yeah, he's a complication in my life too."

The bird was still in the nearby tree, and as it called out again he turned to it. As far as he could see it was the only other living thing nearby. The cemetery was still empty as the snow fell, blanketing the ground now as it increased. The trustee in his little golf cart was nowhere to be seen now that the gates were open. Looking past the tree as he stood in the falling snow, he felt cocooned in a world of white. His own personal snow globe. Just him and the bird in the cold morning air.

He glanced at his watch, knowing he was late for work. And yet he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. Not on this day, one year after he'd lost her. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets he turned his back into the wind, trying to keep his face from getting the full brunt of it. And in his mind another memory arose. Of a sub-zero night in a snow filled quarry, struggling through the wind and thinking he could very well die of exposure. And here he was again standing out in the snow, apparently having learned nothing.

His face was wet with the snow landing on him, and he could no longer feel his ears or nose. "I should go sweetie... I'm late for work." But even saying the words out loud, he couldn't leave just yet. Eyes drawn inexorably back to the gravestone, the date held him. March 17th, 2014. He'd lived an entire year without seeing Audrey. Shivering now he gazed at the date hewn into the granite, imprinting it in his mind.

But something caught his eye and as he turned he saw a vehicle pulling up behind his. A black SUV. Government issue, just like the one he was driving. And he knew, without even seeing who was driving who it would be. He looked at the gravestone again as a knowing half smile rose to his lips.

"That's Liz. Come to find me because she's the only one who would know this is where I'd be today. She's the only one who knows where you are because she was with me at your funeral. See, I told you... it's complicated..." And looking back down the slope he barely made out someone exiting the car, as the snow swirled between him and the lone figure on the road. He didn't need to see her clearly though.

As she made her way up toward him he watched her struggling with an umbrella in the wind, uselessly trying to keep the snow off her. And still he didn't walk down to meet her. Instead, staying by his dead fiancé and child a little longer.

"I have to go, sweetie," he told her quietly now as Liz drew closer. Touching the snow covered gravestone with his frigid hand he turned as Liz approached within earshot now.

"I thought I'd find you here," she panted in the snow, drawing level with him and peering out from under her umbrella. She looked at him a moment, taking in the wet face and red ears and nose. He was freezing out here. "You okay?"

He didn't answer her immediately. Instead he held the gravestone in his eyes again, focusing on the date. One year. One entire year without Audrey, and yet he'd survived. And as he turned and met Liz's blue eyes with his own and held her worried gaze, he nodded. "Yeah, I am."

She looked at him a moment longer, sizing him up then nodded herself. "Okay, partner. When you're ready we can get out of this snow and get somewhere warmer." When he looked down, she continued more gently. "I can wait in the car if you'd like longer with them."

 _Them._  Liz was the only one who knew there were most likely two in this grave. With a final glance at the gravestone, he touched it again with his hand, looked at the almost frozen roses and then stepped toward Liz. "I'm ready, you don't need to do that."

He drew level with her and as he did so she slipped her arm in his - just like she'd done the day of the funeral. With his other hand he took her umbrella and held it over her as they walked back down to the vehicles. They didn't say anything. Didn't need to. He knew why she'd come. She knew why he was here. Each knew the other and simply walked by their best friend in the snow.

As they reached the road, he handed her the umbrella and proceeded to brush the snow off the windows of his SUV. He wasn't wearing gloves and she shook her head at him. "You'll freeze out here."

He shrugged and turned back to her. "Wouldn't be the first time."

She nodded at that, then asked him, "Did you turn your phone off? Aram was trying to call you and I texted you a couple of times."

"Yeah...and I know I'm late for work too." He looked up quickly at that and met her eyes. "But hey, at least I wasn't at a pharmacy trying to beg for drugs today."

"Always a good thing," she replied, studying him. It wasn't just the fact he was freezing cold and wet. There was something behind his eyes today. They were unfocused and fixed on another day a year in the past. "You sure you're okay? We could give Cooper some story that you're sick, if you like."

He looked at her as the snow fell around them. "Yeah, like he'd fall for that one." He shivered then, and stamped his feet to try and get some blood circulating in them. And looking back up the hill to the white granite marker barely visible in the snow, he sighed.

She followed his gaze, looking at his expression. "I'm sorry, Ress."

He felt a tear escape down his cheek as he looked up the slope, but it went unseen on his wet face. "I'm sorry too..." he said quietly, then turned to his vehicle, sniffing as he fished his car keys out of his pocket.

"Why don't you come sit in my vehicle and warm up first, since the heater hasn't been off for very long in mine," she asked him, expecting him to say no.

He stopped, then looked at her as he closed his car door. "Sure," he told her, suddenly not too concerned about how much later that would make them for work.

"I'm freezing, so you must be downright frost bitten," she told him as she dropped her umbrella down and climbed into her vehicle. He nodded as he brushed snow off his shoulders and hair before climbing into the passenger seat.

As she started the car and turned the heater on his body felt numb with cold. But the part of him that had been numb for a year didn't feel quite as cold anymore. A year of firsts without Audrey was over. The first Thanksgiving, Christmas, holidays and birthdays without her. Yet despite feeling numb at her loss, he'd seen countless times in this past year that he still had the ability to feel. And as he glanced at Liz now leaning between the two seats beside him, he knew that most of those times involved her.

She found what she was reaching for in the back seat and handed him a blanket.

"I don't need-"

"Put it around you," she told him, straightening up in the driver's seat again. "You're colder than you think."

Deciding not to argue with the voice of reason he draped it over himself, keeping his frozen hands under it. He really needed to invest in a good pair of leather gloves.

"You really should wear gloves out in this weather, Ress."

He smiled at that shared observance and rubbed his hands together under the blanket.

"And a hat wouldn't hurt either," she added, smiling as she looked at his wet hair.

"I aint wearing a fedora, if that's what you think," he said, meeting her eyes. He knew what she was doing. She was deflecting him from the reason he was out here in the first place. Waiting for him to mention it if he felt the need to.

"It's a year today," he said, looking back up the slope to the grave.

"I know, and I'm sorry I didn't realize what the date was sooner, or I'd have been here quicker," she told him, kicking herself for being so wrapped up in her own business to notice his pain. And he'd even told her two weeks ago. His 'I have more than enough of my own' wasn't specifically to do with Audrey's anniversary, but it was one of the constant pains in his life.

"It's okay," he said, drawing his eyes from the top of the hill and looking down at her blanket wrapped around him. She was the one person who had known where to find him today.

"I still miss her," he said quietly.

"You will always miss her, Ress. That's part of who you are now," she told him, reaching over and moving the blanket back up on his shoulders, from where it had slipped down.

He looked up at the grave again, obscured through the heavy snow now. "Our child would have been about 3 months old now," he said, then sighed.

"Did you want a boy or a girl?" she asked gently, not sure if she should push it that far. But he surprised her when he answered immediately. He'd obviously thought about that a lot.

"Oh, a girl, without doubt. A mini Audrey. A little princess who would wrap her daddy around her little finger," he said, and smiled ruefully, before glancing at her in the seat beside him.

"I wanted a girl too…we almost had her, before my life went south," she said, seeing a living room with pink balloons in it announcing 'It's A Girl!' before she'd turned and found her bleeding 'husband'.

"It wasn't to be though," he said, "for either of us."

"Well, not this time, Ress. You still have your life ahead of you though, and have time for a family one day."

He exhaled heavily and shook himself out of that mood. "Not if we keep meeting the likes of Anslo Garrick and Luther Braxton though, right?"

She nodded, understanding why he was changing the subject. "Right. And speaking of Blacklisters, we should head in before Cooper sends out a search party," she said, glancing at her watch.

"Or docks our pay," he quipped, reaching up and taking the blanket off him and throwing it in the back seat.

She smiled at that. "You warmer now?" she asked as he found his car keys.

"Yeah, I'll do. Thanks, Liz. For the blanket, and… for coming today," he said meeting her eyes.

She reached out her hand and briefly touched his arm. "I'm sorry you lost them."

"I know. Me too," he replied then gave her his half smile before opening the door and climbing out. The snow swirled inside the vehicle as he stood there and leaned in. "I'll follow you, as these roads are getting slick." And with that he closed the door and carefully walked through the snow to his vehicle.

Back in his vehicle he turned on the ignition and the heater, willing it to warm up fast. As Liz pulled out behind him, he turned and followed her slowly through the cemetery.

As he did so, he looked up again to the hilltop, to the unseen grave obscured by the falling snow. "Love you Audrey and baby girl," he whispered.

_Happy Anniversary, Audrey…_


	21. Tom Keen

_So we finally got to Tom Keen in the episodes. And yes… I was disappointed. All that build up and we got no dialog between Ressler and Tom. "You need to come back with us," and "That's not happening." doesn't count! And I was severely unimpressed that Ressler wasn't in the last 17 minutes of the episode. Plus the fact Liz told Cooper she trusted him more than anyone else in the world! What?! After all Ress has done for her and the secrets the two of them share?! So, here is my take on the missing scenes in this episode. It starts as Red and Ressler are leaving Germany on Red's jet._

* * *

Ressler sat at the rear of the jet while Red and Dembe sat at the front, deep in some conversation he had no interest in. As Reddington laughed at something Dembe said, Ressler's fist clenched.  _Damn you, Reddington._

Dropping his gaze from the two men for the sake of his sanity, he forced himself to look out the window. It was still daylight and light clouds surrounded the plane. As they banked, the sun shone through the small window, dazzling him. Slamming the window blind down he then sat back heavily in the large recliner.

Red approached, and Ressler hoped like hell the man was going to the rear restroom. No such luck. He sat down across from Ressler and studied the agent. Ressler ignored him, his eyes fixed on the closed window blind. But in that pull that Reddington always had over others, Ressler's eyes slowly focused on the criminal sitting across from him.

"You're upset," stated Red.

_No shit, Sherlock._

Ressler glared at the man silently. Of course he was upset. They had gone to Dresden, Germany with the sole intention of bringing Tom Keen back. They'd had him. He stood right there with them, and Red had chosen not to pursue the man in the aftermath of the gunfight.

"Donald, whatever you may have thought our mission was, it was never to bring Tom back."

"That was MY mission," replied Ressler shortly. Wasn't it obvious that was their intent? They needed Tom Keen to exonerate Liz. That was a no brainer.

Red waved his hand dismissively and began to explain to Ressler in a manner that irritated the heck out of the agent. "That's not how this works. This was a negotiation. A first step to-"

Ressler leaned forward as he interrupted. "Liz doesn't have time for first steps and subsequent steps. She's going to prison! For a murder her bastard of an ex-husband committed. Or have you forgotten that?!" He held Red's eyes in his, boring into them as Red looked back calmly.

"I haven't forgotten that for one moment, Donald," said Red evenly. Whatever reasons he'd had for leaving Germany without Tom, he was apparently fine with it.

Ressler threw himself back into the chair and exhaled heavily.  _The bastard doesn't get it._  "That judge is out for blood and Liz is ready to hang herself out to dry and take the fall for Tom. And we've done nothing to change that. She's running out of time and options here!" He snapped his words out, as they left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"You need to have a little faith. We went to Germany to deliver a message. Our objective was accomplished," said Red calmly, seeing the FBI agent seething before him, barely suppressing the anger that wanted to bubble forth completely. Donald certainly had a temper.

"Our objective was accomplished?! We went all that way and we didn't bring him back! That's the only truth I see here," said Ressler, folding his arms as he lowered his gaze, suddenly tired of looking at Reddington's smugness.

Red smiled slightly, tilting his head a little as he regarded Ressler. "You know, it's really not your fault. It's the way you've been trained. The cop in you can't see this in any other light. I told you before we left that you were a tourist. You have to trust me on this, Donald."

Ressler felt Reddington pat his knee before he rose and made his way back to Dembe at the front of the plane.

_Trust you? You bastard._

But as he sat back in the large leather chair, flying across the Atlantic in Reddington's private jet he hated the fact that part of him did want to trust that Red could still fix this in the way he fixed everything else. And that was the hardest of all to take. Because if there was one thing that drove him insane in this 'partnership' with Raymond Reddington – it was being left in the dark as Red pulled all the strings three steps ahead of everyone else.

###

But by the time they landed Ressler's anger had subsided somewhat, or perhaps he'd just got better at hiding it. Replaced now with a feeling of dread, he wasn't sure which felt worse. Being angrier was easier. It helped in putting the blame on something else and deflecting the true feelings he had. Concern. Worry. Dread. His partner was going to jail. Liz was in trouble.

After Red and Dembe dropped him off at his vehicle he drove to the post office. Stepping out of the elevator he was surprised at how empty the war room was.  _Quiet day._  Aram and Samar were together at her desk.  _Of course they are. They're always together._ And realizing that was uncalled for he made a concerted effort to sound polite when Samar asked if they'd found Tom.

As he made his way into his office he quickly surveyed the contents of his desk, noting a few reports that needed to be gone through. Dropping his keys into his drawer – the drawer formerly known as the drug stash – he then flopped into his chair. He couldn't look at Liz's empty desk, and looked toward Samar as she came and stood in the doorway with her shadow, Aram, right behind her.

"So you went all that way and you didn't bring him back?" she asked.

Ressler just looked at her, trying very hard not to let his anger show. He'd told Reddington the very same thing. Unable to think of a reply that wouldn't sound harsh, he said nothing, looking instead at his partner's empty desk now. Red's words echoed in his ears,  _'you need to have a little faith'_. Sure. Right. He needed to talk to Cooper, and hauling himself out of his chair he found that Samar wasn't moving out of his way until he answered her question.

"No, he didn't come back with us, but apparently Reddington has it all under control," he told her with barely repressed anger as he grit his teeth.

Whether she accepted his answer or saw the clench of his jaw and thought better of blocking his way, he wasn't sure, but she stepped aside.

As he swept by the two of them, they followed him.  _Don't they have anything better to be doing?_  He reached the metal staircase and Aram spoke up, followed immediately by Samar.

"Wait, Agent Ressler…" Aram started.

"Cooper isn't up there," said Samar.

Standing on the second step above them he stopped.  _Just great._

"You…you haven't heard, have you?" said Aram worriedly, and Ressler turned at the sound in his voice.

Samar continued. "Director Cooper is in the hospital. We had an incident here this morning and the Director collapsed. He was carted off by ambulance."

Ressler stood open mouthed on the stairway, feeling his stomach hit the floor. Swallowing heavily, he looked between the two of them. He'd felt for some time something was wrong with Cooper.  _And now…_

Samar took a step forward when Ressler didn't move. "But Liz is with him and she called a little while ago. He's going to be fine. Apparently his blood sugar got too low."

Something in that explanation sounded off to Ressler, and he narrowed his eyes as Aram spoke up.

"Liz was with him when it happened. Um…they were in your office, and we um… we tried not to listen but…" Aram stopped and looked to Samar for support. Ressler stood silently on the stairs, processing this.

Samar nodded to Aram and looked to Ressler. "He and Liz were arguing. We couldn't hear the words, but the tone was unmistakable. I've never heard Director Cooper that angry. Next thing we knew Liz was yelling for help."

"When we ran in, Mr Cooper was convulsing on the floor. It was very scary," added Aram. "I had a card, but I don't guess we need that anymore."

 _Convulsing?!_ Their low blood sugar explanation sounded even less likely to him as Ressler stepped down from the staircase.  _Cooper and Liz were arguing. No guesses what that was about_. He'd had his own words with her standing outside the Deer Hunter's house. This whole situation was affecting them all, even their boss.

"Where is Liz now? Still at the hospital?" he asked them.

"She's back at the court house," Samar told him, "She said Cooper was resting so she left the hospital and went back to the hearing with Judge Denner."

 _And jumped right back into the line of fire._ Ressler nodded and stepped silently by the two of them to retrieve his car keys from his desk drawer. He really, really needed to talk to Liz.

###

The fifth floor of the courthouse was deserted, apart from two police officers outside one of the court rooms. He had been texting Liz and they were in a recess at the moment. As he approached the two officers at the door, he flashed his badge at them. They looked him up and down, noting the jeans and casual jacket but still stepped aside and let him through.

As he entered the courtroom Liz sat toward the front. Turning at the sound of the door opening she stood when she saw it was Ressler. As she came toward him, she motioned to him to sit in the very back. As he sat down on the bench, she slid in beside him. Very aware of others in the room, they kept their voices low.

"Hey, how are you doing?" he asked her.

As her tired eyes looked at him, he saw the answer to that. She wasn't doing so good. She might fool others, but not him.

"Fine, I guess. It's been a rough day," she said, leaning in toward him to keep their conversation private.

"I heard about Cooper. What happened, Liz? Samar and Aram heard you and Cooper arguing?" As he looked at her, he saw the momentary flash of desperation that she quickly covered up.

"Yes, we were…it was not a good situation at all. And when he collapsed, I felt so afraid for him!" As she looked up at him, tears sprang to her eyes.

"But he's going to be okay, right? Samar said low blood sugar?" he asked her, reading the look in her eyes. And as she looked at him nodding, he knew she was lying. Low blood sugar, be damned. There was more going on here. He decided to let it ride for now though. He didn't have long to talk to her before the judge would be back in.

"Liz, we found Tom, but he wouldn't come back with us."

At the slump in her shoulders and her exhale, he put his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry. I tried Liz. We were right there with him. We had him and then everything went south and he ran in the middle of a shootout."

She nodded, looking up at him. "It's okay. Thank you for trying, Ress. The judge will be back in soon and this will just play out the way it's meant to," she said quietly, looking toward the closed door of the judge's chambers.

"Damn it, Liz. You have to convince him you didn't do this!" he told her as he leaned closer, still aware that he needed to keep his voice low. "Do not go down for something you didn't do." Their attention was drawn to the door of the court room opening and Dennis Wilcox entered. He eyed Ressler, then kept walking to his table at the front of the room.

"I don't know how to do that, Ress. They have the bullet I fired into Aleko's foot. I'm screwed here…" she looked up and met Ressler's eyes as he leaned close, his hand still on her arm. They could be facing her being carted off to jail in the next court session. This might be the last moments of her freedom.

"Liz," he started and then stopped. Nothing he could say was going to change anything now. Instead he squeezed her arm and looked up as the door to the judge's chamber opened and Denner entered the courtroom.

"You need to go. They'll clear the courtroom here before we start," she told him apologetically. She didn't want him to go. She wanted him sitting right beside her when the judge dropped that gavel and decided her fate.

He knew she was right, and as they stood the bailiff announced that all non-essential personnel needed to clear the courtroom. Ressler raised his eyebrows at that. He'd been called a lot of things. Now he was deemed non-essential.

"Thanks for trying, Ress," Liz told him and then met his eyes again, before she dropped her gaze and resumed her place at the front of the court.

Ressler watched her sit down then exited quickly through the door and stepped out into the hallway. He didn't want to leave, but knew he had to. It was a closed proceeding, and he was…  _non-essential._ Head down and hands in his jacket pocket he stalked down the empty marble floored hallway toward the elevators. Rounding the corner he stood in front of the elevator watching as the elevator passed the 3rd floor on its way back up.

The elevator came to a stop and he stood still waiting for the doors to open. And as the doors slid open and revealed the lone occupant of the elevator, he looked right into the eyes of Tom Keen.

"What the-?" He was the very last person Ressler expected to see.

"Well, if it isn't the boyfriend. Should have known you wouldn't be far from her," Tom said with a leering grin.

"Shut up, Keen."

"You sleeping with her yet?"

Ressler stepped into the elevator and after the doors closed, he slammed his palm onto the emergency stop button to hold the elevator on the 5th floor. He leaned forward to address the man. "I'm going to ignore that question because it doesn't merit an answer."

Tom shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head as he laughed. "So you're not. But you wanna be."

"You think you can lift that mind of yours out of the gutter for one second. What the hell are you doing here? Your conscience finally get the better of you, Keen?"

The humor left Tom's face as he regarded the agent before him. "Why I'm here has nothing to do with you."

Ressler rolled his eyes and shook his head. "It has everything to do with me. She's my partner," Ressler replied, pointing back toward the court room.

"And she's my ex-wife." He reached his hand out to release the doors, but Ressler stopped him, standing quickly in front of the panel.

"Not so fast, Keen. I'm not letting you anywhere near her until I check you out."

"Didn't know your tastes ran that way, Agent Ressler," snorted Tom, emphasizing Ressler's name.

"Shut up. Turn around and put your hands where I can see them on the wall. Put them up!" Ressler was about to draw his weapon when Tom complied, turning to face the wall with legs apart and hands against the wall.

"Whatever you say. But I'm unarmed. You think I'm going to risk getting this far only to be stopped by some overweight security guard on the ground floor?"

Ressler patted him down and searched his pockets, making sure Tom was unarmed. When he came across a cell phone, the only contents of his pockets besides some cash, he took it. "I'll hang onto this." Kicking Tom's feet apart, he patted down the outside of his legs then back up the inside of them. Tom laughed at the agent.

"Easy there boy, getting close to the merchandise."

Ressler ignored him. Satisfied Tom was unarmed he stepped back from the man. "So what is your intention?"

Tom turned, regarding Ressler. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm here for the same reason you are. Liz."

Ressler dropped his eyes, then looked back up at the man. "So you're here to confess?"

"No, I thought I'd shoot the Judge and blow up the court room," he said sarcastically, but at the look on Ressler's face as he reached for his weapon he added, "I'm kidding. Of course I'm here to confess."

Ressler re-holstered his weapon. "Well then, don't let me stop you. Let's go." Reaching behind him, he released the emergency stop and the doors slid open. As the two men glared at each other, Tom was the first to break eye contact. Ignoring Ressler now, he swept past him and into the corridor. Ressler followed, making sure the man did as he intended.

Tom suddenly stopped and turned back to Ressler. As they faced each other out of earshot of the two police officers at the court room door, Tom dropped his voice.

"You know, I don't like you. I never have. I saw the way Liz looked at you. The way you looked at her. I would hear the change in her voice whenever you would call her. I always knew when it was you."

Ressler listened silently, wondering where Keen was going with this.

Tom continued. "But for what it's worth, as much as I don't like you, I admire you. That doesn't mean I wouldn't beat the tar out of you given the opportunity. But what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you've got her back. She needs that with Reddington in the picture. Don't trust him. Whatever he tells you, always know he has a hidden agenda, especially where Liz is concerned. So whatever happens to me after I go in there and confess to murder, I thank you for being there for her."

Ressler nodded, acknowledging Tom's words. "Glad to see we're on the same page. I don't like you either," he replied.

Tom grinned at that. "See you around, 'pal'."

And as Tom turned and walked up the corridor toward the court room, Ressler begrudgingly knew they both had Liz's best interest at heart. And however much he'd like to rough the man up severely for what he'd done to Liz's life, part of him couldn't help but reluctantly admire Keen for having come back to face the music.  _He still loves her…_

He watched as Tom calmly walked toward the two officers at the door. When he failed to show any ID, they drew their weapons. As Tom held his hands in the air, he spoke evenly to the officers. His words reached Ressler, sounding firm and resolute in the empty corridor.

"I suggest you let me through. I'm the man who killed Eugene Ames."


	22. Happy Birthday

_Oh. My. God. 2x17 gave us Keenler! When Red gave Liz the wine and told her to share it with someone special, my wish for the entire episode was that the special person would be Ressler. I held my breath all episode, and couldn't believe I got my wish at the end! Wow. So along with the rest of us Keenlers, my heart about melted. Perfect scene. The way she looked at him was beautiful, and the way they locked eyes as he leaned forward and put more food on the desk. Wow. Just. Wow. Kudos to the writers, to Diego and Megan for such an outstanding 2 minutes! So then I found that every time I watch the scene, I start wondering 'what are they talking about?' And that's where this chapter comes from._

* * *

As she reached into her desk drawer he saw her pull out a bottle of wine. Obviously a birthday gift with the ribbon on it, he surmised.

"Oh, look at you!" he beamed. Partly because in his haste to get food he'd forgotten about the wine, even though that had been his first intent for her this evening. But mainly because she was enjoying this too.

"I've been saving this for a special occasion," she told him, and he knew she wasn't being entirely truthful if it had been a gift given today. But his heart leapt that she considered this a special occasion. His gamble had paid off.

With that closeness he'd developed with her, (a closeness that confused the heck out of him more times than not) he'd acted on his feelings when he'd heard there was no reservation at Wing Yee. In that moment it all felt right and he immediately put in the order on the phone. Not knowing specifically what she would want, he'd just ordered a variety of sweet and sour, chicken, pork, fried rice and vegetables. Covering his bases. Surely she'd like some of what he'd got.

And as he'd swung by and picked up the order from the young girl at the counter, she wished him a good evening. As he paid for his order and smiled at her, he hoped it would be a good evening - and not one where he showed up fully laden with a meal for two only to find the birthday girl had already left.

So it was with some trepidation that he'd driven back into the Post Office parking lot, but then as he saw her car was still there, he couldn't help but grin.  _Score one for the thoughtful partner._

And it wasn't until he entered their office and saw her sitting at the desk that he realized how much he had wanted to do this for her. And how much she needed this. Eyes downcast as she sat there, the picture of abject misery, he interrupted her as he stood in their doorway. And as she told him what was on her mind and the fact she felt she was failing in life, he empathized with her. He felt the same way, minus the profiler part. Neither of them were in a loving relationship anymore. Neither of them had the child that they both 'should' have had this past year. And in that moment, the contents of the box he had brought in and his purpose in being there meant more to him than anything else had in some time.

_You're celebrating your birthday – with me._

And if he'd had any doubt about his intentions at pleasing her, that had melted away as he saw the darkness flee and her entire being light up when he'd told her that. As she rose to her feet, the look on her face stopped him in his tracks. Fingers to her lips as her blue eyes held him,  _'she is beautiful'_ was the only thought that hit him in that moment.

And now as she held the bottle of wine and looked at him with a light in her eyes that had been extinguished for so long, he held out the two paper cups to her. "Well, I'm honored," he told her, smiling. And the thought that struck him as he set out the plates and she poured the wine was  _'why haven't we done this before?'_

As he shared out the food on the plates, he glanced up at her. She was still smiling. Still watching him. He smiled back at her. "I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I got us a bit of a variety here."

"It all smells and looks great. Thank you, Ress. Seriously, this is…"

And for that moment as she hesitated, he saw the gleam of tears in her eyes. They appeared to be happy tears though, and that in itself was a welcome change. Both of them had shed far too many unhappy tears this past year. He pushed her plate before her and laid the chopsticks beside it.

As he lifted his cup of wine, she raised hers and smiling, they toasted each other. "Happy birthday, Liz," he told her and again, her face lit up in that beautiful grin as she held his eyes. For a second he held her eyes, unable to drink, and then raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. Placing their cups back down, she smiled and shook her head.

"Do you know where this wine comes from?"

"I assume a gift today," he told her, starting in on the sweet and sour pork on his plate. As he chewed, she smiled, and lifted up the bottle.

"Yes, from Red actually. But Sam made this when I was 9 years old from grapes we grew in our back yard," she told him, then for a moment looked into the distance, remembering. She almost hugged the bottle as she thought of her and Sam harvesting the grapes as he then began the process of wine making.

Ressler lowered his chopsticks, watching her. "Wow, really…?"

Her eyes came back to the present as she sat the wine bottle between them. "And amazingly, it doesn't taste like vinegar," she grinned, and took another sip. He did the same, tasting it anew.

"Tastes great to me," he said, appreciating it all the more now. That she had shared this bottle with him. For a special occasion.

As she started in on her food, they ate in an easy silence for a couple of minutes. He caught her eyes as he ate, and she met his and tilted her head.

"Is this a date?" she asked him, smiling as she picked up another mouthful wth her chopsticks.

"Do you want it to be?" he asked her, holding his breath that he'd even asked that, waiting for her answer.

She looked at the wine, then back at him. "Would it be the worst thing in the world if it were?"

He didn't hesitate. "Not at all," he said and met her eyes again as they sat close to each other. And if one look could say a thousand words, this was one of those looks, he realized. Full of 'you're my partner, but you're also my best friend. And I care about you. Somehow, through our terrible first year together, we are here sharing your birthday with wine you made 22 years ago. And it feels…good.'

And in reply, she picked up the wine and topped up his cup. He motioned to her to put more in, grinning as he held the bottle in place with his finger until she'd put enough in his cup. Topping her cup, she sat the bottle down and then toasted him again.

"To our office date," she said and grinned. He tipped his cup on hers, and added, "And to good company."

"I lied," she suddenly told him.

"Oh, what about?" he asked not sure it really mattered at this particular point in time. Not when they'd just officially decided this was a date. A first date?

"I wasn't saving this for a special occasion," she said, motioning to the wine.

"Ah." No surprise there. He'd already figured that one out.

She leaned closer, causing him to stop with food halfway to his mouth at the look in her eyes. "Red told me to share this… with someone special."

The food never made it to his mouth. Lowering it back to his plate, he digested that instead.

"You're very special to me, Ress. You do so much for me. And I'm sorry I'm so self-centered at times – okay, most of the time - and don't stop to tell you that," she continued, needing him to know that.

He smiled and laid his hand on hers without even thinking. She didn't draw it away. "Thank you, but you don't need to tell me that. It's what friends do for each other," he assured her, but deep down it had still been nice to hear her say those words.

He squeezed her hand then took it from hers, taking another sip of wine. It was good wine, and he wasn't sure if it was already causing a buzz or if that was just because…because of the way he felt on their 'first date'.

She felt it too and as she ate her meal, she laughed. "At the risk of doing a Red here, I'm going to tell you a story."

He leaned back in his chair, sipping the wine and nodded, "Hey, I'm all ears. Story time it is," he smiled, and waved his hand, encouraging her to start.

She grinned, and moving her plate out the way, leaned forward on her elbows on her desk. "On my eighth birthday, I got up that morning feeling so excited, having dropped hints to Sam for days that I wanted to go to Disneyland. So as I sat down to breakfast where my gift was all wrapped and waiting for me I was SO hoping it was two passes to Disneyland for him and I to go. But as I tore off the paper and opened it, I found that it wasn't. I tried so hard not to let him see how disappointed I was when I opened the box and found a little princess tiara. I put it on, of course, and let him take a photo of me on my birthday morning, but I went to school that day with the cookies he'd baked for me to give out in class, and felt so very disappointed."

Ressler leaned forward, smiling as he topped up their cups with more wine. "Is this a good story, because I gotta tell you so far I'm not feeling the love," he told her, grinning.

She motioned for him to be patient, smiling as she took another sip of her wine. "Well, that afternoon I got home from school and Sam was waiting at the front door for me, which was strange. And as I reached him he held up a little blindfold and asked me to put it on. I complied, because it was all very mysterious and exciting. So he led me through the living room to my bedroom and then when he told me to take off the blindfold, there was a beautiful princess dress on my bed, and shoes to go with it. I squealed in delight and hugged him, and he left me to change into it, telling me to knock on my door when I was dressed. And as he came back in he again put the blindfold on me, and then led me back to the living room. And as he took the blindfold off he told me to open my eyes." She stopped, looking at Ressler.

"Well, don't stop there," he told her, surprised at himself for getting into her story now. But it wasn't the story that was holding his attention. It was Liz and the way she was telling it. That faraway look she took on whenever she mentioned Sam. The same looked he assumed he had when he spoke of Audrey.

She smiled, and held his eyes as she continued. "While I had been at school, he'd transformed our living room into a princess castle. It was amazing. He had known I wanted to go to Disneyland, but it wasn't possible for him to get time off work for us to do that. So he had brought Disneyland to me. He took me by the hand and led me inside the castle and inside was a dinner for two, with a birthday cake and two or three more gifts. My tiara that he'd given me in the morning was on the table and he placed it on my head. And he'd even put a bed in there and I slept in my castle that night, feeling like a real princess. And in that princess castle in our living room, he gave me the best eighth birthday party any little girl could hope for." She dropped her head, smiling at the memory, and brushed a tear away at the memory and the thought of Sam not being here for this birthday.

Ressler watched her, seeing the emotions playing across her face. And was about to say something when she looked up at him.

"And I didn't think I would ever feel that way again. Until I didn't go to Wing Yee, but you brought Wing Yee to me," she told him, reaching out and grasping his hand as her eyes shone.

He held her blue eyes with his own for a moment, then grinned. "Well, they were all out of tiaras at Wing Yees, or I'd have had them add one to my order," he said, watching her closely as she cracked up at that.

"But they did have fortune cookies," he added, passing one over to her.

Letting go of his hand, she unwrapped the small half-moon shaped cookie. She smiled, then read the inscription on the small slip of paper inside it. "Ask yourself if what you are doing today is getting you closer to where you want to be tomorrow," she said and then lowered it to the desk meeting his eyes. Was what they were doing today something they wanted to continue tomorrow? "What does yours say?" she asked quickly.

Crumbling his cookie on his plate, he read the words on the paper, and then laughed.

"What does it say?" she prompted.

He read the words to her "You can design and create, and build the most wonderful place in the world. But it takes people to make the dream a reality. Walt Disney."

"What? It doesn't say that, does it?" she gasped as he gave her the slip of paper. And it did. Right as she'd told her story of Disneyland here was a quote from the man himself. "That's funny," she laughed and then placed the piece of paper near her computer screen.

Lifting the wine bottle and seeing that it was now empty, she turned and placed it back in her drawer, unable to discard it. "I'll keep it as a memento," she told him and in that moment, he didn't want to ask her if she meant of Sam, or of their birthday meal. It was best not to ask.

Reaching behind him he took the last two items out of the box. On his way to their office he'd stopped at Aram's desk and taken the last two cupcakes. As he gave one to her, he grinned.

"Just pretend it has 31 candles on it and we'll call it good," he said, as she began to peel the paper off it.

As he ate his cupcake down in a few large bites, she ate hers more slowly. "This was nice. I almost don't want to get up and go home," she said, licking the icing off her fingers.

"To that lovely motel," he deadpanned, dropping his cupcake wrapper in the trash. "But your dog awaits," he added, smiling as he stood up and wheeled his chair back behind his desk.

"Are we the only ones left here?" she asked, getting up and peering through the blinds as he leaned on the edge of his desk.

"There are lights on upstairs. I think the narc boys are still up there working on something," he replied, rolling his shirt sleeves down. "But our team and Cooper are all gone."

As she turned and faced him, he stopped halfway through rolling his left sleeve down. "Are we okay to drive?" she asked. They'd polished off an entire bottle of wine between them and he was feeling rather good. Not drunk. Just good.

"I don't really feel like getting a ticket. We should probably drink a bottle of water and wait a while," he told her, finishing rolling his sleeves down. "I'll go grab us some from the break room," he said and rose from his desk as she stepped toward him.

And suddenly her arms were around him, clutching him tight as she leaned into him. His arms encircled her, surrounding her as she breathed against him. "Thank you," she whispered.

Resting his chin on her hair, he smiled. "You're welcome. Same time next year?" he asked and felt her chuckle against him.

Raising her head, she looked up at him noticing how blue his eyes looked in the glow of the floor lamp behind her, "Let's not wait that long, okay?" she said, and patted his chest before stepping back.

And with his outstretched hands still holding her arms, he smiled and nodded. "Happy birthday, Liz."

And as her eyes shone as she looked up at him with that beautiful smile that he'd unleashed in her, he felt better than he had for a very long time. And so did she.


	23. Reddington Down

_So, after our three week enforced break, I was SO ready for a new episode! But also worried because Ressler was nowhere to be seen in the promo photos or preview. And my fear was well founded as he was barely in this episode! While it was a great episode and a thrilling ride - and let's hear it for how awesome Mr Kaplan is - I was so bummed out that they benched our Ressler! Seriously?! So after I moped around for a day - yes, it means that much to me - I decided to rewrite some of the episode and let Ressler have his moment in the sun, so to speak! So here is my take on how "Leonard Caul" 'should' have happened!_

* * *

Donald Ressler had always considered himself a down to earth 'by the book' man. Well, until this past year and a half, at least. A man who dealt in facts even after partnering with a profiler. A profiler who had valiantly tried to open his eyes to the possibility that there was more to law enforcement than her perception of it being all guns and muscle. He dealt in facts. Joe Friday would be proud. But as he sat hunched over reports on his desk in his shared office, an unmistakable feeling of dread washed over him. Dropping his pen and leaning back in his chair, he gulped, looking quickly at Keen's vacant desk. There were no facts to support it. But something was wrong.

Rising quickly, almost stumbling as he gained his feet he moved his chair out the way and quickly made his way to Aram. And before he'd even asked where Liz was, because the IT guy might actually know that, Cooper was coming down the stairs, phone pressed to his ear and speaking anxiously into it. Ressler didn't even need to ask. He knew. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was telling him loud and clear that his boss was talking to his partner.

"Shot?!" exclaimed Cooper into the phone.

Ressler's stomach completely flip-flopped at that as he approached Aram's desk.  _Liz shot?!_   _No!_

"Where? Where are you?" Cooper barked into the phone, making his way briskly (especially for one who had so recently laid down his cane) toward Aram.

"Reddington's shot. Euclid and Drake," Cooper barked out to Aram.

As his bosses words reached him, the feeling in Ressler's stomach dialed down a notch.  _Not Liz. But Reddington!_ Samar came over and stood by Aram's desk, joining their small, concerned gathering.

As Aram quickly typed the street names into the map of DC, all knew what was required. The nearest hospital to Reddington's location. Ressler quickly looked away, swallowing hard as his eyes darted. The man he had hunted for years was down. The man he'd tried to kill in Brussels was shot. And it occurred to him that if that son of a bitch died, he wouldn't be happy about that. Not one bit.

His attention returned to Aram speaking with Cooper.

"No, University." And as Aram's fingers flew over the keys attempting to reach the nearest hospital ER, Ressler looked at his boss just as Liz's phone went dead and Aram lost the trace. He needed to be out there.

"Sir, I should be out there with Keen and Reddington."

His boss barely looked at him as he dialed another number on his phone. "Get me Tom Connolly." Holding his hand over the phone as he waited for the person on the other end, his eyes darted to his lead agent.

"Agent Ressler, until we know what the hell is going on out there you're staying right here."

He didn't offer a 'yes, sir' in return. Cooper's tone didn't suggest a reply. And walking back to his office while futilely trying to raise Liz on his phone, he felt utterly useless being safe in the war room while the real war had just broken loose outside. And it took every ounce of control he could muster not to punch the crap out of the door as he entered their shared office as his worried eyes fell on his partner's empty chair.  _Damn it all to hell!_

###

After 30 more minutes, his mood hadn't exactly improved. He'd just got more used to working with the feeling gnawing in his mid-section. Back out at Aram's desk, their usual center of operations, Liz was on the phone again. Exhaling heavily at the sound of her voice, trying not to let Samar hear beside him, he leaned forward on the desk as Liz spoke.

"Reddington's in surgery," she told them, as Cooper replied and all eyes darted to his phone to where Liz's voice was on speaker.

"Surgery? Where? We've checked every ER in the city," Cooper asked her.

Ressler listened as Liz informed them they were in a warehouse with a mobile crash team. And inwardly, he wasn't surprised. Good ole' Reddington. Even when the man was apparently shot to pieces his minions flocked to his every need.

As he headed to call the Washington Field Office to dispatch a unit to Liz's location, Ressler somehow didn't feel that this was all going to be neatly wrapped up in a bow in fifteen minutes as Cooper had implied. This was Reddington. And though the man had an elaborate contingency plan in place to save his own butt, the person or group who had shot him for the fulcrum was still out there.

Returning to the war room after calling in the warehouse location to the response team, he again approached his boss, striding past Samar as Aram looked up nervously over his laptop.

"Response team are on their way," Ressler informed Cooper. Looking momentarily away, he licked his bottom lip and faced his boss again. "Request permission to join them at the location, sir."

Cooper turned to face him. "No need. By the time you got out there Reddington would be on his way to a hospital and both Keen and Reddington would be safe. I need you and Navabi to track down those hospital admission records for Caul and see if we can find the man."

And without waiting for an answer Cooper turned back to Aram and leaned forward to speak to him, leaving Ressler gritting his teeth and biting back a response.  _I'm a field agent, damn it._  He caught Samar's eyes momentarily, noting the understanding nod she gave him. She was well aware that he needed to be out in the field with his partner. And as he turned away to make some phone calls, stalking back to his office in frustration, he resisted the urge to try and text Liz. For whatever reason, she didn't have her regular phone and right now he had no way of contacting her.

So if Liz needed them to find Leonard Caul, that's what he'd do. It didn't mean he was happy at being benched though. Again.

###

Cooper's fifteen minutes and 'we'll be home' estimate had flown out the window at the news of the empty warehouse, two dead fake agents and a dead doctor, just as Resser had known it would. Refraining from an 'I told you so' to his irritated boss, he leaned on Aram's desk yet again as more bad news came down the wire. Listening to Liz on speaker phone, he looked at Cooper pointedly. Cooper knew what he was silently asking – demanding – and still ignored his lead agents' request.

As Liz hung up again, Cooper faced Ressler evenly. "Where are we on Leonard Caul?" he asked, deflecting Ressler's attention back to the task Keen had set them on.

Sighing, he filled in Cooper on the latest they'd discovered. And he'd almost resigned himself to the fact that he was stuck riding it out in safety at his desk while Liz dealt with the hostiles out there. Almost. As he and Samar reported to Cooper each time more information surfaced on Caul, he put up the best face he could under the circumstances.

Back at his desk, he divided his time between looking at Liz's empty desk and chair, and staring at his computer screen aimlessly, his mind elsewhere. As Cooper came up behind him, he acknowledged his bosses' request to call Hopkin's HRT team to Liz's new location.

"Copy that," he answered, reaching for the phone.

And as he was talking with Hopkins and hurriedly giving him the details on the situation at the warehouse, his phone lit up on his desk. Hanging up quickly from Hopkins he picked it up. He didn't recognize the number, but was certain it had to be Liz on a burner phone.

Holding it to his ear he answered, "Ressler."

"Agent Ressler, I'm sure you're well aware of the situation that is unfolding as we speak. Your presence would be…beneficial."

It wasn't Liz. But he knew the voice.  _Mr Kaplan!_

The woman continued, speaking to him quickly in her precise, clipped manner. "Our position is compromised. Raymond is compromised. I had to leave him. His location is 3295 Thompson."

Heart hammering in his chest as he rose to his feet, he replied, "On my way."

In a complete turn around from her point form instructions to him, she replied more softly, "Be careful, dearie. There are hostiles surrounding the warehouse."

Opening his mouth to reply, the phone went dead in his ear as the woman hung up. For one brief moment more he held his eyes on Liz's empty desk before he sprang into action. Dropping his phone into his suit pocket he pulled his FBI jacket off his chair and grabbed his car keys from his desk drawer. Leaving his office and entering the war room, he strode purposefully toward Cooper and was about to speak when he saw his boss was occupied on the phone.

He didn't waste time. Simply turned and as he passed Aram and Samar, he held up his car keys in explanation. "I have to go."

Aram looked up, mouth half open. "Um…"

Beside him, Samar stood with folded arms and nodded to Ressler, smiling knowingly. "Go get 'em," she offered as he walked by them concentrating on the task at hand. Mr Kaplan's words echoed in his mind. 'Your presence would be beneficial.'  _To who? Liz or Reddington?_  No matter. Reddington's team needed him elsewhere and the war room would survive just fine without him.

He was at the elevator when Cooper called out. "Agent Ressler!"

Turning to his boss as the elevator door began to close he held his head high and met his bosses' steely gaze.  _Not this time, sir. No. I'm out of here._

His last glimpse was of Cooper turning to a nervous Aram and then he was on his own in the elevator as it headed to the surface. On reaching it, he passed the guards outside and sprinted to his vehicle, finally feeling like he was doing something constructive. Something… beneficial.

###

After what seemed forever but was in fact only 14 minutes, he arrived at the warehouse. Screeching to a halt outside the building, he ran from the vehicle into the warehouse, weapon at the ready. As he entered the building he was met with a bloodbath. It was the Kenyon family massacre all over again, though on a smaller scale. The hostiles Mr Kaplan had informed him of had wreaked havoc in the time since she'd left Reddington and he had arrived on scene. Dead men dressed in black fatigues lay on the floor as he made his way through them, mindful not to slip in puddles of still warm blood. But as sobering as the sight was, he found some solace in the fact there were no pregnant women among the dead. Stopping a moment, he met the eyes of one of Reddington's men sitting on the floor, cradling a fallen comrade not long for this world.

"Reddington?" he asked the man on the floor, who simply cocked a thumb indicating around the corner.

Stepping over bodies, weapon drawn he rounded the corner and held his gun on the first standing person he'd seen in the building. Tom Keen.

Tom Keen pulled up short and lowered his weapon on seeing Ressler before him. "Wondered when you'd show up."

As Ressler half lowered his weapon, he wasn't struck by the words, but the tone. There was no challenge in the words. No false bravado or male posturing. He did briefly wonder which side Tom Keen had been on in this fight though. But his doubts were immediately allayed at Tom's tired words. "Liz wasn't here. She's safe. Reddington is, was, through there. I was on my way to check on him."

"Stay here. I'll go check Reddington," Ressler told him, hoisting his weapon again as he made his way further into the warehouse. In the distance plastic drapes surrounded a makeshift surgical unit. His mind was suddenly back in the basement of an abandoned building, seeing small children in hospital beds and Dr James Covington in just such a unit. Shaking off that memory, he stepped forward, bemused for a moment at the memories this warehouse was invoking. He needed to find Reddington. But on entering the surgery unit, his heart dropped. The bed was empty.

A faint cough caught his attention from another hallway leading away from the unit and as he turned to face the sound, he saw Reddington. He was down and swaying precariously as he sat on the floor. And whatever feelings of hatred or distrust Ressler had harbored during his long hunt for the criminal fled completely as he holstered his weapon and ran to Red's side to help him.

"…Donald…" Red gasped, "…what are you…doing here…"

"Damn it, Red, be quiet," he told him, dropping quickly to his knees behind the criminal as Red began to topple. He fell straight back into Ressler, no longer able to sit up by himself.

"I got you…" he told Red, gingerly opening Red's jacket to reveal the blood soaked surgical dressing on his chest. Hissing through his teeth, he rapidly deduced what had happened. Moving out of necessity so soon after surgery had ruptured the stitches and reopened the incision. Red's bloody hand was clutching a gun, and gently reaching down, Ressler took it from him and lay it on the ground beside them.

"Fight's over Red, you've done your part now." And once the gun was secure, he then placed his hand on the dressing on Red's chest in order to slow the blood loss. Reddington gasped, but didn't stop him.

Running footsteps filled the air behind him and as both men turned, Dembe burst into the hallway, gun still drawn.

"Raymond!"

"I'm fine…just fine…" he reassured Dembe, leaning heavily against Ressler.

Ressler spoke to the black man as he kneeled down in front of them. "He's lost a lot of blood. He needs a doctor now!"

Red chuckled at that. "Oh, Donald... you worry too much."

Dembe reached in to look at Red's chest. "The stitches must have come loose. There is a nurse still on the premises. I will find her!" And with that he rose to his feet fluidly and ran back the way he'd come, leaving Ressler alone with Reddington again.

"Donald…where is Lizzie…?"

Kneeling on the ground, supporting the weight of Reddington as he leaned against his chest, he couldn't lie to the man. "I don't know where she is. But Tom Keen said she was safe." Red turned and met his eyes. Ressler was immediately struck by how tired and unfocused they looked. And as Reddington looked at him, he didn't need to say a word. Both men's thoughts were identical.  _So we're trusting the word of Tom Keen now._

Adjusting his hand on Red's chest dressing, they heard footsteps approaching again. Dembe and a woman dressed in scrubs appeared. She was terrified at what she'd just seen in the massacre, yet at the sight of her patient needing help she was suddenly all business.

"We need to get him up on that table back in the surgical unit. Carefully," she told them, making her way back to get the bed ready.

With Ressler at his head and Dembe at his feet, they hoisted Red between them as carefully as they could, well aware of how much blood was dripping from his chest. Safely transporting him to the unit they lay him on the bed, and once in place the nurse swung into action with her trained, gloved hands.

Standing back, Dembe and Ressler watched as she replaced the cannula and got Red back on oxygen before she set about hooking him back up to the monitors.

"Oh my god…" the nurse whispered, looking on the monitor at Red's blood pressure and heart rate. "He needs blood now. Hand me one of the units in that case!"

Dembe was closest and turned toward the case but they all saw it at the same time. The case had been riddled with bullets, reducing the units of blood inside it to empty plastic bags splattered with their life saving contents.

At the sight of the nurses' wide eyes, Mr Kaplan's words came back into Ressler's mind. 'Your presence would be…beneficial.' He gave a half smile at the memory then shrugged off his FBI jacket. "It's fine. You have a blood supply right here," he told her as he removed his suit jacket and began to roll up his left shirt sleeve.

"Donald…no…"

"What?" said the nurse, a little slower to catch up as Ressler came to stand beside her patient.

Ressler leaned forward to Red, "Time I returned the favor, don't you think?"

Red was still shaking his head weakly as Resser looked back up at the nurse. "I take it you know how to do a field transfusion?"

Dembe spoke up at the foot of the bed, explaining further to the nurse. "We don't have time to collect Agent Ressler's blood to give to Raymond – even if we had any bags that were still intact."

Seeing the sense in what they were proposing, the nurse wasted no time and gathered the tubing to perform the transfusion. "Fine. I assume you two already know you're compatible donors. But you need to sit down sir, you can't stand there and give blood."

From nowhere, Dembe produced a chair and as Ressler sat down facing Reddington the nurse took hold of Ressler's arm and began to place the IV. Wincing a little as the needle entered his vein, he made himself more comfortable in the chair and got ready for the blood to begin flowing out of him.

As the nurse set up Red's IV and started the transfusion, Red spoke up weakly as his half closed eyes met Ressler's. "Think how much LESS wittier you'll feel now…"

Dembe chuckled, apparently having previously heard what that was in reference to. The nurse simply shook her head as she set about restitching her patients' chest wound now.

And all Ressler did was smile broadly and pat Red's shoulder, and wonder for the five hundredth time at how much his relationship with Raymond Reddington had changed.

###

Twenty five minutes later Ressler wasn't smiling. Feeling decidedly nauseous and slightly dizzy at the blood loss, the nurse finally stopped the transfusion after ignoring his demands that he was fine and could still give more.

"You're not fine, but you will feel better in a few hours. You'd benefit from a unit of blood yourself to get your BP back up," she admonished him, but then looked at him appreciatively as her features softened. "But thanks to your stubbornness Reddington is doing much better and is now stable enough to be transported."

"Would that be 'stubborn male bullshit type stubbornness'?" Ressler asked her, remembering his partner. And just as he was again wondering where the hell she was, she spoke up from the other side of the room.

"That's exactly what it is," she told him, taking in the scene in an instant and coming to stand by him as he still sat beside Reddington. But her actions belied her words as her hand found his shoulder and lingered there as she tilted her head to look at him.

"You okay?" They both asked it in unison of their partner, and beside them Red chuckled and shook his head.

For a moment he held Liz's eyes as they both nodded, and satisfied that she was okay, he returned his attention to Red. "I'm not as witty anymore, but I'm fine."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," smiled Red tiredly. His hand reached up and rested on Ressler's arm. "Give us a moment, would you please, Donald."

And once again, he was the third wheel between Red and Liz. It was familiar territory but he was actually okay with it. "Sure," he said, swaying slightly as he climbed to his feet.

"Whoa… yeah, I'm fine," he said, getting his balance as Liz grabbed his arm and he managed to stop himself falling flat on his face all over Reddington.

The nurse gave him a look that she had apparently stolen right out of Liz's collection. "Let's get some sugar into you and then you need to get a unit of blood. There are ambulances arriving outside."

"I'm-"

"Don't tell me you're fine." This time it was Liz and the nurse who spoke in unison. They smiled at each other in mutual agreement as Ressler sighed.

Outvoted and knowing it was useless to argue against TWO women, Ressler slowly walked away with Dembe and the nurse. Before he left the surgical area though, he turned back to look briefly at Liz and Red. He needed to talk to Liz but it was going to have to wait until Red had spoken with her.

"Lizzy," he heard Reddington say, obviously with something he needed to tell Liz. But Liz shut him down, and as Ressler heard her briskly tell Red that they'd cleared a wing a Sibley Memorial hospital, he saw the flash of sadness in Reddington's features.

And in that moment, despite hunting him for years and wanting him dead, despite having blamed him for the breakup with Audrey and everything bad that had happened in those five years, Ressler felt nothing but sorrow for the injured criminal.

###

In another flash of memory, in a day that was seemingly filled with them, he was sitting on the tailgate of the ambulance with his FBI jacket slung around his shoulders when Liz came outside. Spying him, she came and sat down beside him on his left side and both of them looked at each other, a soft smile on their lips. She nudged him, in silent acknowledgement that she well remembered the last time they'd done this.

"Are they taking you in?" she asked, studying his pale features. Paler than normal, even for him.

He shook his head. "Well, apparently I wasn't very good at convincing them I was fine, because they attached me to this unit," he told her, indicating something behind him. "But no, I don't need to go in. Just have to sit here a bit longer."

For the first time, she noticed the IV in his right hand hooked up to a unit of blood hanging inside the ambulance. "Stubborn…so stubborn," she told him, but stopped as Red was wheeled out on his gurney.

Her eyes dropped from Reddington in a manner Ressler had seen too many times before. Watching the medics load Red into the waiting ambulance, he spoke, never taking his eyes off Red.

"I assume your little chat with Red didn't go so well."

"Understatement," she replied, leaning easily into his left arm. "I don't know what to do anymore, Ress. One minute I'm yelling at him, the next minute he's shot and I'm doing everything I can to save his life, and then he's back to telling me half-truths and I can't stand to be in the same room as him."

Ressler drew his eyes off the ambulance as the medics closed the doors, refocusing on Liz beside him. "The man is an enigma."

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she replied, "Just when I think I am getting somewhere I realize that I don't know nearly enough about him. But I know someone who can tell me more."

Ressler looked at her, seeing the resolve behind her wet eyes and didn't say a word. As he sat there receiving blood with Liz leaning on his left arm, the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach returned at her words.

Because he knew exactly who she would go to in order to find out more about Raymond Reddington.


	24. Lake of Fire

_So, what can I say about 2x21, except that it was pretty much perfect all round. The right mix of story, action - and Ressler was in it all the way through! Finally! There were so many good scenes. But the first one that stuck with me was the truck explosion. It was amazing, but I felt it wasn't covered enough. I wanted to know what happened after we saw them both dazed on the ground. So of course, I had to expand on that (and I apologize up front for describing the explosion, because yeah, we all saw it!)_

* * *

The white truck was barely noticeable as they walked back to their Suburban, parked between the rows of loading bays and warehouses. Sidestepping rain puddles, Ressler's mind was still on Kilpatrick. The man had acted like a prick, but fair enough, he could cut him some slack if it helped them with their case. Then his attention was back on Liz as she handed him her phone, showing the photo of a smiling woman sitting on a swing with a child in her lap. Even he could see the child was Liz from almost 30 years ago as she explained where she'd got the photo from.

"Why would a Russian CI have information about your mother?" he asked her, Karakurt briefly forgotten for the moment. She hesitated and as the familiar look of  _'just how much do I tell you and get you in deeper shit with me?'_ radiated uncomfortably from her, his phone rang.

Her answer cut off for now, he handed Liz her phone. Retrieving his own phone from his suit pocket he answered, hearing Samar on the other end. Listening, his eyebrows furrowed as she informed him that it appeared Karakurt had a truck bomb. And without even realizing he was doing it, he took Liz's arm determinedly at the very thought of a bomb and hurried her back to their vehicle.

"They think Karakurt has a white moving truck with explosives," he told her as he strode quickly to the Suburban. Beside him, Liz stopped as he listened to Samar in his ear. And in one of those moments where time appears to slow and everything plays out in painfully clear slow motion, he saw Liz turn and face the white truck they had walked by moments ago. In his ear Samar was breathlessly telling him the truck was parked outside the OREA.

And now Liz was stepping toward the truck.

_No!_

"Liz! Liz, look out! The truck!"

Reaching his arm out to point, his words reached her, but were then lost as the morning air erupted in an orange fireball. For that one split second there was no sound. In that moment there was no heat. Only orange and yellow fire billowing through the air and white truck panels ripping apart as their deadly contents erupted from within. But then that second was over as the heat and shock wave hit them.

And still it was in slow motion as the orange fireball grew and the air turned red hot. Dragging in a lungful of heated air he tried in vain to call out to Liz again, but suddenly had no voice. The heat had sucked it from his lungs and no sound came. And while Samar's voice was still in his ear the shockwave slammed into them. Suddenly airborne, for one fleeting moment he thought he'd left his shoes on the ground. Phone still pressed to his ear, unable to even tell Samar anything he slammed into the driver's side of the Suburban.

Pain radiated across his back on impact as the phone clattered to the ground, shattering as it fell from his hand. And if his lungs had been unable to breathe enough to call out to Liz a moment ago, now they had the wind knocked completely out of them. With a fleeting glance at Liz before his eyes closed involuntarily against the impact as he hit the vehicle, he felt the mirror dig hard into his right shoulder.

The SUV windows shattered around him from the initial shock wave. The air shook again with another explosion as the gas tank of nearby vehicle went up, followed immediately by a third explosion. The vehicles parked by the white truck stood no chance as their gas tanks contributed to the growing inferno. As broken glass hit him he fell to the ground, landing on his side as pain seared across his back.

 _Liz!_ Still she was first and foremost in his mind. He couldn't call to her, his voice having been sucked away in the heated void. Opening his eyes, she was hidden in the smoke. Heart pounding as he struggled to fill his lungs, he sought to control the rising panic of not being able to take in a breath. Suffocating under the heat and glass as he willed his lungs to open, he finally saw her.  _Liz!_  He still couldn't call to her, but she was turning to him. Blood was on her face, but relief flooded over him. She looked okay.

As the flames crackled and smoke filled the air, still everything moved at half speed. In an almost stunning ballet of orange flame and black smoke, the flames reached high into the sky, transforming the rainy day into a dance of orange and yellow. And now the scene became clearer as the first fireball lifted, leaving behind a war zone of charred vehicles and loading bays. His mind now elsewhere, as soon as he stopped concentrating on trying to fill his lungs the air rushed back in. Gulping in lung fulls of stifling hot air, he raised his head a little and looked toward Liz. Dazed, head pounding and his back a mass of pain, he struggled to rise but found that wasn't happening.

With no voice yet, he met Liz's eyes and held her from afar. In silent understanding, each checking their partner for injuries they both breathed sighs of relief at seeing the other in one piece. Together, their eyes slowly left their partner and focused on the inferno before them. As he looked at the charred truck and vehicles that were now reduced to burning piles of twisted black metal, his brain woke up. They were right next to a vehicle and the air was searing hot around them.  _If this gas tank overheats!_

Now his voice rang out in the burning air. "Liz! We need-" he stopped, unable to continue for a second as he sucked in more hot air, "We need to move!"

On her knees now, she was crawling toward him, wincing as broken glass dug into her knees. As she reached him, he held his hand out to her as she grasped it.

"Ress!" she called to him breathlessly. As she came closer he ignored the pain in his back and drew her into him as they kneeled on the ground, feeling her leaning heavily against him.

"Liz! You okay?" he asked her, his mouth against her ear as his arms grasped her to him.

"I think…" she panted, clinging to him as smoke billowed around them. Above the crackle of the fire, sirens could be heard in the distance as they held each other, each unable to let go for the moment.

As he again attempted to pull his legs up under him, he noted almost in amusement that his shoes were still on his feet. With his back muscles complaining loudly, he began to haul himself up but slipped to the ground again.  _Dammit! Get up!_

In the end he wasn't sure who helped who but together they struggled to their feet. His left arm still around her, they stood shakily together as they faced the burning vehicles. He felt her fingers touch his cheek and as they came away from his face he saw blood on them. He hadn't even realized he'd been cut.

"Come on," he told her and holding her to him, hissing at the pain across his shoulders and back they limped away from their vehicle. Sirens filled the air now as they slowly made their way, reeling together like two drunken cohorts returning from a night out on the town. Glancing at her bleeding nose he reached into his pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. Handing it to her she held it to her nose, wincing as she tried to stop the bleeding as they made their way to the rear of one of the warehouses.

As soon as they turned the corner and took shelter behind the building, the air immediately felt cooler. As she slowed to a stop, he dragged her on with him.

"No, keep going. We need more distance. I don't trust our veh-"

He never finished the sentence as his worst fears were realized. Having been exposed to the intense heat, the gas tank in their own Suburban exploded. Erupting in a fireball, their vehicle lifted into the air before crashing to the ground. Shards of twisted, burning metal dug into the softened asphalt. For the second time in a few minutes they were blown off their feet. But this time, he never let go of her. His fingers dug into her, holding her to him as they were flung to the ground. Heat filled the air as small debris rained down on their backs as he shielded her with his body, half laying on top of her.

The sirens were now deafening as fire engines came screaming past them, their huge wheels mere feet from them. For one awful moment he was afraid they'd get run over, unseen on the ground in the blowing smoke.

"Liz!" He still had his voice. Sheer adrenaline drove him now as he dragged her to her feet as pain shot across his back and shoulder. Hauling her to the back of the warehouse with arms around each other, they staggered toward the building and flung themselves into a covered loading dock. More fire engines entered the area, flying past them with sirens blaring and firefighters at the ready.

"Oh my God…" she gasped, her hand clutching his arm as she fought to stay upright. Standing close together, hunched over against the pain in his back he simply nodded and gasped for air.

"Need to...sit down!" she told him, and again, unsure of who was leading who they sank to the ground and leaned against the back wall of the loading dock. He wasn't sure what felt worse - standing hunched over or leaning on his painful back. As he was trying to decide, realizing he couldn't stand up right now even if he'd wanted to, a fireman approached them at a run.

"You guys okay?!" he called, pulling his helmet off, revealing the blond head of a young fireman.

Liz whispered to Ressler, "Are we okay?"

"I'm not sure," he replied quietly to her.

He raised his hand to the young fireman. "We're good, thanks!" he called out, then suddenly grinned. The fireman wasn't sure what to think, so just scratched his head, nodded, then ran back to help his colleagues.

"Yeah, we're awesome," said Liz under her breath to the retreating fireman, before turning to her partner. "What are you smiling about?"

"I just thought of Amy. Something she said," he told her, looking away as his eyes focused on the memory of the Kenyon compound.

"Amy?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to look into his bloodshot eyes.

"Yeah, she told me her daddy said all FBI agents would go to hell and burn in a lake of fire…" he said, remembering the little girl in the back of the car, before meeting Liz's eyes next to his own. His smile left his face as he saw her smoke affected red rimmed eyes and smeared blood below her nose. He surmised he probably didn't look much better himself.

"It kinda feels like that right now," he said quietly, again relieved that she wasn't badly hurt. Lifting his hand he gently tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear, then stopped, realizing what he was doing. But as his hand dropped she reached out and held it as a tear rolled down her dusty cheek.

"Ress…they wouldn't have survived that. The CIA agents we spoke with. They couldn't have…"

He shook his head, having already figured that one out himself. "No, they wouldn't have."

"If we'd delayed two more minutes…" she whispered, clinging to his gaze. It didn't bear thinking about. His arm still around her, he gripped her a little tighter as they sat together.

Something else occurred to him. "Oh man, I was talking to Samar. They must be frantic. Is your phone working?" he asked her as she reached into her pocket for her phone.

"Seems to be," she replied as she hit the speed dial for Samar and turned on the speaker.

They hadn't even said anything before they heard Samar's voice between them, "Oh, thank God! Are you guys okay?!" Aram's voice was in the background, yelling at Cooper that they were on the line.

"We're okay," they both said in unison, hearing a cheer go up on the line as Samar put them on speaker.

Ressler spoke into the phone as Liz held it to him, "We need someone to come get us though. We, uh… don't have a vehicle any more," he told Samar and in the background Cooper replied,

"I'm sending a driver to pick you both up. Just hang tight a bit longer!"

Liz spoke into the phone, "Sir, it went off right outside the OREA office. We don't think anyone could have survived."

Cooper replied to her, "We have it on the TV monitors here. It doesn't look promising, no. The building is…gone."

Unable to reply, Liz hung up the phone and wordlessly leaned into Ressler. Sitting on the ground as the sound of the firemen's efforts to quell the flames surrounded them, he recalled their conversation before the bomb went off. She had asked those agents to help her locate her mother. This was personal.

"I'm sorry, Liz."

She nodded, looking again at the photo on her phone of her mother holding her. "It's okay, I'll find out though," she replied.

Of that, he had no doubt. If there was one thing he knew about his partner, it was how resilient she was. Stubborn, actually. Something they both had in common. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Each busy with their own thoughts and each in no hurry to move away from the other. As the firemen ran to and fro, their shouts could be heard from around the side of the building. Neither wanted to go and watch the effort to put out the flames.

He was about to ask her again about her mother, when an FBI issued black Suburban pulled into the area. As it slowed, the driver spotted them in the loading bay and stopped.

"Come on, Liz," he said and pulling his long legs under him, they both gained their feet. The movement sent a new wave of pain across his back and he knew he was likely one mass of bruises. But still, it could have been worse. Much worse. Making their way slowly to the waiting vehicle, the sight of their former vehicle came into view. Firemen were pouring foam onto it having almost extinguished the flames.

Their driver was watching the firemen and had just realized what he was seeing. "Wow. That was one of ours."

As they climbed in the back seat, Ressler looked past the driver to the remains of their SUV. As they buckled in, their driver slowly drove past their vehicle, slowing even more as he surveyed the entire scene for the first time.

"It didn't look this bad, even on the TV," he said almost to himself.

Ressler looked out the window at the remains of the inferno and the mass of yellow clad, bustling firemen. Water was spraying everywhere from a myriad of hoses snaking across the ground. The lake of fire that had been borne so rapidly was now almost extinguished. Looking away from the scene he glanced at Liz and she met his eyes, both silently thankful they'd survived. And as they pulled away from the charred remains of the warehouses, he again thought of Amy's words.

_Not today, sweetie…_


	25. Run Like the Wind

_Wow…I have no other words for the Season 2 finale than Wow. What an amazing episode. SO much happened. SO much changed. And while Liz was the focus in her escape, the one I kept coming back to was our lovely Ressler. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he doesn't have Cooper to back him up. He's in charge. He's the one the task force and the DOJ will turn to for results. He's the one who has to hunt Liz. He's the one who has to hunt his best friend. I was SO sad for him. So this chapter is 100% Ressler._

* * *

Ressler walked slowly down the stairs from Cooper's office - what used to be Cooper's office - seeing the war room below him yet unable to focus on anything. Cooper had been relieved of duty and the very thought of that sat cold and knife-like in his gut.

' _I'm naming you as Acting Director of this task force.'_ Reven Wright had informed him.

' _She tested positive for the virus…'_  Now Aram's words stumbled over in a haphazard race to the front of his thoughts, pushing through Wright's.  _How the hell?_  It wasn't possible. None of this was possible. And yet here it was. He had just been made the Acting Director - a burden of responsibility under circumstances that were threatening to drop him to his knees if he thought too hard about it.

 _You're an agent who puts a premium on doing what's right.'_  Wright had told him. And the irony of it all was that he had lied to her weeks earlier. Lied to the Deputy Attorney General, and to Cooper. And walking slowly down the stairs, Reven Wright's words exposed his lie wide open for the world to see. Yet no one saw. No one knew. Only Liz.

And she was in a metal cage being treated like… _a criminal._

Stepping off the bottom step he turned to head for familiar ground. Safe ground. A place that didn't involve being the new Acting Director. A place he shared with...his partner. Footsteps echoing off the floor as he briskly made his way past Aram's desk, the IT guy looked at the agent sweeping past and hesitantly spoke to him.

_I have to investigate my partner._

_I have to investigate Liz._

Ressler didn't hear Aram as he strode by him to his office. Didn't see the look from Aram as he caught the eyes of Samar across from him. All he saw was Liz being interrogated on the wrong side of the table. Sitting small and soft and alone as the DOJ leaned into her space, forcing her to answer their ridiculous accusations. And now he was supposed to do the same.

_I have to investigate my best friend._

_I have to investigate my partner… Shit._

Shoulders slumping slightly as Ressler swept by, Aram grabbed hold of Samar's small smile before returning his focus to his laptop. It could wait. God knows Agent Ressler had enough on his plate, he surmised.

Reaching the haven of his office, Ressler quickly shut the door behind him. Sinking slowly into his chair, he leaned forward on his desk. Fully aware of being seen through his window, the urge to drop his head into crooked arms was abandoned, and instead he kept his head up and saw what was in front of him. Liz's desk. Liz's  _empty_  desk. The desk she sat at every day across from him, with that little smile she reserved for him every so often when he entered their office. The one he looked for, whether he admitted it to himself consciously or not. The desk she sat at while writing reports, his stolen glances across to her going unsuspected. The desk they had sat at and shared her birthday. His head dropped then, as eyes closed at that memory. It was too fresh. Too raw. Too undeniably special.

And it was as his eyes were closed against the memory of Liz's smile that evening that the power in the building went off. Momentarily unsure what had changed, his eyes sprang open to darkness, punctuated by red strobe lights rotating slowly on the walls. A low volume siren chirped, announcing to all and sundry (who couldn't possibly have failed to notice) that the power had been cut.

The memories fled, relegated to that special compartment in his mind that held onto the one part of his life that offered hope. Audrey had occupied that place for a long time. But the room had been laid bare in her wake. Yet slowly, imperceptibly new memories with Liz arose and resided there. In the red glow of the empty office he scrambled to his feet and found his door, pulling it open as he quickly entered the war room. Aram's voice reached him from the semi darkness.

"Our power supply's not responding," he said, stating the plainly obvious while around them agents scrambled with flashlights, seeking the source of the problem.

But Ressler already knew what the problem was. There was only one man with the means and the motive to shut the power off to this fortress at the very moment Liz was in custody. This was no coincidence. This was planned. This was an escape attempt. "Reddington," he said to no one in particular and grabbed his own flashlight before heading for the outer reaches of the building to where Red would most surely arrive to get Liz out.

As he headed down the hallway toward the box, red strobe lights half lighting his way as his flashlight searched every nook and cranny for Liz, a new emotion flooded over him. Momentarily replacing the desperation at being 'promoted' to investigate his partner he was surprised to feel relief. If anyone could help Liz out of this situation, it was Red. He could get her out. He could save her from this mess and do what he himself was no longer able to in his new position of Acting Director.

_Acting Director…_

The title was new. Unfamiliar. Unwarranted. Unwanted. Gritting his teeth, he squashed the desperation down and quickly jogged through the room housing the box. Standing eerily quiet in the shadows with its bloody memories, he spared it no more than a cursory sweep of his flashlight before heading toward the lower levels. As he headed for the loading dock, large wall fans spun slowly, letting filtered light into the red glow of the corridor. Turning a corner into a darker area, he shone his flashlight into every corner and suddenly realized he didn't know he was going to do. He had to make the appearance of trying to stop Liz. He was the Acting Director. His job was to detain her. Take her into custody.

Arrest her.

And faced with having to do that, he almost stopped in his tracks. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just let Red take her to relative safety. It would absolve him of any responsibility in arresting her. She would be gone and out of the clutches of the DOJ. She would be safe for the moment. She could disappear just like…just like Red had done for years.

And yet logic now spoke up, demanding to be heard in his brain. She shouldn't run. No way could she run from this. That one action would fortify her guilt more than any other. And he knew what he needed to do. He needed to find her before Red completed his elaborate escape plan.

 _Damn it, Reddington._ Not only was he now at odds with Liz in having to arrest her, he was now openly going against the master criminals plan. Assuming he could find Liz in time.

Turning the corner with another wall fan spinning gently behind him he entered a small access room right above the loading docks. High on the wall, the strobe light turned slowly, lighting the area in a flashing dim red glow. His flashlight chasing away the red light, he continued to search every corner. Every access hatch. Every cupboard. And of Liz there was no sign.

He was going to lose her to Reddington's plan after all.

_Liz…no…_

Ahead, movement on a small ladder caught his attention and as he focused his beam on the source he stopped dead. Heart throbbing in his chest as his respiration increased, his beam found Liz in front of him. Blinding her, he realized she couldn't see who had approached. And as he dropped the beam, letting her see her captor before her, he suddenly didn't trust his voice to speak to her. And as every fiber of his being suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here, he held fast. He had a job to do. His entire life had always been about the job. And no matter what he had done this past year that had broken that in him, he was still an FBI agent. More than that, now he was the Acting Director. And he had a job to do.

And that job was to arrest Elizabeth Keen, fugitive.

As she stood before him he forced himself to stop her. "Don't do this, Keen." Using her last name was necessary. He needed to distance himself from 'Liz'. It was simply a defense mechanism. To call her Liz right now would undermine any shred of resolve he had left. He'd lose himself and what he needed to do. And right now, the only thing he could hold onto was the job.

_Donald Ressler, Acting Director._

_Donald Ressler, betrayer… Don't! Just do the job._

And now she was gravitating toward him, when he needed her to keep clear of him. Because if she got too close. If she invaded his space. If he looked into her eyes. He'd be lost.

And yet to arrest her he  _needed_  to approach her. And all he could do was stand still, feet planted firmly to the floor unable to move. As she asked about her blood test, Aram's words flooded back.  _'Agent Keen tested positive for the virus that killed Senator Hawkins.'_

_Killed Senator Hawkins._

_Killed._

She was being detained for murder. He needed to arrest her and yet she was even closer now encroaching in his field of view. As the red strobe light flashed it illuminated her face outlining the desperate set of her jaw. Illuminated her 'fight or flight' stance before him. The tone of her skin was red, then dark, then red, flashing in rhythm with the strobe. And still he was frozen to the spot. She was his partner. His best friend.

His target.

_I need to arrest you, Keen._

The words rose in his brain, yet still he couldn't act. Forcing himself back to the task at hand, he tried to ignore the smell of her perfume so close to him. He embraced the sight of her, standing in the dim light. The cut of her blouse. The soft swell of her chest underneath. The necklace at her pale throat. All so familiar. All so HER. And now everything was running away from him. She was running to where Reddington would pick her up and she'd be gone. She'd be guilty. She'd never get out of this if she ran.

_Arrest her!_

_Damn it, arrest her!_

His voice sounded hollow to his ears. "And if you run, what does that look like? If someone's setting you up, you're giving them exactly what they want."

His words were the truth, yet he could put no conviction behind it. Not with her this close in front of him. Standing there ready to run, yet still needing him to listen to her. Because not only was she his best friend, she shared that sentiment with him. And as he looked into her eyes, unable to move from the spot she stepped even closer, filling his field of view.

"In about 20 seconds, that camera's gonna turn back on. If you're gonna let me go, you've got to do it now, before people see you standing here with me."

He was here to arrest her and yet she was protecting him, with eyes burning into his, their deep blue intensified in the red light as they gleamed with repressed tears. And at that, his resolve faltered.

_Don't! You have a job to do!_

And all he could see now wasn't the Liz standing so close to him. Seeing through her, past her, he saw the Liz who had shone when he placed Wing Yee's in front of her. The woman who glowed at his gift to her. The woman who had lost so much and had suddenly been given something so unexpected. So thoughtful, so caring and so tender from the one source she hadn't imagined it could come from. And as she held his eyes, begging him to listen to her that he had less than 20 seconds to decide, he couldn't tell her. Couldn't voice what he was feeling. And in that moment, his logical mind fled and common sense abandoned him.

Completely and utterly.

His feet discovered that they could move after all. As did his hands. As did his head. And one moment she was holding his gaze, begging him to listen. And in the next he'd moved into her space and taken her head in his hands, feeling her tied back hair in his fingers. Like liquid, she instantly flowed into his touch. Melding with her, meeting her eyes, then closing them as his mouth met hers with a small incline of his head. Her hand touched his wrist as his lips pressed into her mouth. Her lips parted as he felt her opening up to him. And for one brief moment they were joined, clinging to their partner in such illicit fashion. For one small moment in time he embraced it.

Allowed it.

Wanted it.

And he never wanted to stop feeling her on his lips. Never wanted to be just a work partner to her again. And yet, in the back of his brain he was aware that the clock was ticking. And reluctantly, his mind screaming at him as he did so, he drew back and closed his mouth, effectively blocking her from returning the gesture. His eyes never left hers.

And as she cupped his cheek in his hand, following his move away from her, he managed to get one solitary word out through his taut throat.

"Go," he said hoarsely, unable to say anything else to her. But nothing else was needed. He was letting her go. He was ignoring his orders.

And before he could even tell himself what a great start he was off to fulfilling the Acting Director position, she pressed something into his hand and pulled back from him. Her soft hand left his cheek and with a slight twist of her body she fled past him toward the lower level of the loading dock.

He didn't turn to watch her go. Simply stood right where he was as her scent lingered in the air. As his lips tingled with the memory of her against them he steadied his breathing. He'd kissed her once before at a time they'd thought they might very well freeze to death, but not like this. Not this intimately. Not with such openness. And yet it could go nowhere because he'd let her go. Had given her permission to run. Run from him.

And as he heard the sound of her footfalls disappearing behind him his mind woke up and screamed soundlessly to her fleeing form.

_Run, Liz! Run! Run like the wind!_

And in perfect timing he heard the whir of the electricity coming back on. And now he realized what she'd left in his hand and saw her burner phone sitting in his palm. He'd just turned his back on the FBI protocol. Turned his back on his orders and the job by defying the very first order he'd been given in his new position. Yet she'd given him a Get out of Jail Free card.

He'd no sooner crouched down as if to be seen picking it up off the floor when the hallway lit up in white light. The cameras would be back on and without missing a beat he stood and spoke to Aram in the two way radio.

"We just missed her. Got her burner," he told the camera, showing Liz's phone to Aram.

And afraid his countenance would betray him even through the small black and white camera, he turned in the direction Liz had gone and stepped out of view of the lens. Walking toward the fan spinning slowly in the outer wall he slowed. Then froze. Through the grate in the fan Liz came into view, running to Red's waiting car. She was out. She was safe.

He'd delivered her to Red for safe keeping.

It wasn't the job he'd been ordered to do as Acting Director. He hadn't arrested her. Couldn't arrest her. And that was something he was going to have to live with. If he had a compartment in his mind for pleasant memories, there was also a gaping hole where the grief, addiction and tears of pain and broken dreams lay. And this last few minutes would be equally shared among both compartments.

And it was again time to be surprised at the feeling that sprang forth. As he watched her jump into the vehicle as it sped away, he pressed his hand to the dusty window and gave a small unseen smile. Just like the small smile he reserved for her on occasion when she entered their shared office. She didn't have the monopoly on that.

_Be safe, Liz. Keep her safe, Reddington._

And as he started walking back the way he'd come, flashlight hanging at his side, two way radio turned off and in his pocket now, he closed his eyes momentarily as he walked, willing his brain to quiet. A myriad of thoughts clambered to be heard. Feelings rose up in him, full of loss and need and unknowns. With an effort he suppressed them as he passed by the box on his way to the war room.

He'd lived his life with walls around him. Those walls had crumbled for two women. One was dead. And one had just fled from him. And now he was laid bare, painfully aware of how alone he now was. He'd leaned on Liz far more than he should have. He'd needed her. And now here it was.

He was facing the terrifying prospect.

Entering the war room he silently tossed Liz's burner phone to Aram. And turning toward his empty office he wanted nothing more than to sink into his chair and disappear for a while. Just a little while. Just to have a little space. But that wasn't going to happen as Reven Wright appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Agent Ressler, a moment?"

Sucking in a deep breath he turned and faced his new superior. "Ma'am," he nodded and walked dutifully up the stairs to her. And once again he didn't see the look Aram gave him. Echoing his own thoughts of worry, concern and fear at this new turn of events. He didn't see Samar come and prop herself on Aram's desk and pat his shoulder. He didn't see them both watching him as he disappeared into the Director's office.

All he felt was the turmoil inside him. All he could see was Liz in his mind running to the waiting car. And whatever Wright needed of him, he'd do. To the best of his abilities, he do whatever she asked of him. Whatever she ordered.

But where Liz was concerned he honestly didn't know if he'd be able to fully comply. He'd go through the motions, but there were no guarantees.

And as he sat in the Director's office, the wall went back up around him, stoically protecting himself from further hurt in order to do the job at hand. But the one thing he couldn't block out or put a wall in front of was the feel of Liz's lips on his for that one fleeting moment.

Because that was something he didn't want to lose.


	26. Don't Make Me Do This

_So, we come to the last chapter in this Season's Conversations and once again it falls mostly on Ressler's shoulders to carry this chapter. Would I have it any other way? Of course not!_ _With Liz and Ressler separated by painful circumstance he's the one I stand beside. He's our heart broken Boy Scout. Our fiercely loyal agent, simultaneously fueled by an inner rage, pain and addiction. Our beautiful tortured soul. Seriously, I cannot fathom how much this character means to me! He's not real, I know that. And yet I feel for this guy and think about him and find myself in his head. I love this character and I hope I do him justice. Thank you Diego, Jon and the Johns for giving us our beautiful Ressler! It's going to be a LONG wait until late September!_

* * *

Donald Ressler sat in the passenger seat of the Suburban as the city flew by outside his window. The events of this day sat cold and hollow within him, yet outwardly he was calm with his mask firmly planted on his features. The one that belied the inner turmoil. The façade that hid the cold dread circulating through his veins. To an observer he was in control, and unfazed. To the uninitiated he was a man in charge.

And in a day that couldn't possibly have got worse than Liz being framed for murder and 'escaping' just a few hours ago, it had become indescribably worse. Four minutes ago, Reven Wright had delivered the blow that had almost brought him to his knees.

' _There's been an incident. Tom Connolly is dead. Agent Keen shot him.'_

At her words his stomach had roiled and for a moment he had been positive he would vomit. But rapidly regaining his composure - as well as his stomach contents - he turned his deceptively calm eyes to the woman and simply nodded, head held high, unable to speak.

At her side in his newly delegated position they'd strode to the elevator. As he'd turned in the yellow box to ascend, he was witness to Samar and Aram moving together with clear concern on their faces. The news was spreading like wildfire. Agents stopped what they were doing as word flew through the room.

Elizabeth Keen had killed the Attorney General.

_Liz! Why?!_

Nothing could possibly justify her actions. And as the elevator had ascended to the parking garage to their waiting vehicle Reven Wright had received another text on her phone. Keen had fled while Cooper had been detained for questioning.

He'd determined an hour ago that his best course of action – indeed his only course of action – was to focus on the job at hand. It had always been his mainstay. Wright had announced to the team that in Cooper's absence, he was now the Acting Director. Unsure what to say to his colleagues that wouldn't sound hollow and insincere, he'd simply stood quietly beside her in the war room. The team had offered cautious nods, unsure if they should congratulate or commiserate.

And with no other course of action before him, he'd stayed by Aram and Samar, hovering around their desks because it felt normal. It felt like something he should be doing, in the absence of Reddington offering a Blacklister. Because if he thought too long about Liz's escaping with Red, he was afraid he'd lock himself in his office and never want to come out. And that would not be a good look for the newly announced Acting Director.

From the rear seat, Wright's phone rang, jarring him back to the present. His eyes flickered to the rear view mirror and seeing her on her phone, he immediately dropped his eyes against his intrusion. She was an unknown. He was not comfortable in her presence. Unlike Cooper, who with all his gruffness was actually easy and reassuring to be around. As the car slowed at approaching traffic lights, Wright interrupted her conversation and spoke to the driver.

"No stops."

Reaching for the siren and lights the driver engaged them. As they came to life around Ressler, flashing red, white and blue above the windshield they gave him some measure of clarity. The flashing of the lights matched the beating of his heart and as Ressler grasped at that diversion, the driver ran straight through the intersection with authority.

"Yes, we're on our way." Wright's answer was curt and to the point as she ended her conversation.

"The Coroner has arrived and DOJ are questioning Cooper," she informed him as he turned his head to look at her sitting behind the driver. Again he simply nodded. What more could he possibly add to that information?

They were almost there and as the driver weaved in and out of traffic, Ressler returned his gaze to the front and concentrated once again on the flashing regularity of the strobe lights. The building came into view, along with an armada of law enforcement. A large banner announcing the Fraternal Order of Police Banquet hung from the marble columns, moving gently in the breeze. Below it, yellow police tape was being strung, cordoning off the entire building. The crime scene. His partner had killed the AG of the United States. And try as he might, the horror at her actions was being matched by the dawning realization that this was as much his own doing as hers.

_I let her go._

He had been unable to arrest her. And in doing so, she'd run from a trumped up charge straight into a real murder charge. This one was not cooked up by the Cabal. This was real.

 _Liz!_   _How the HELL did this happen?!_

If she'd been arrested – if HE had arrested her, she would have been secure. Behind bars, definitely, but prevented from carrying out this crime. And still inwardly screaming he opened the car door and exited into the mayhem before him. As Reven Wright came from her side of the car to meet him he walked up the stairs, foregoing his usual two or three at a time for the sake of the woman beside him. An officer held open the door for them as they flashed their credentials.

A large oval, gold ornate room met them and in stark contrast to the police presence outside it was relatively quiet inside. A body in a black bag was being secured to a gurney, and as he strode further into the room he spied Cooper. His stomach dropped. He'd just been appointed in his bosses' place and there he was surrounded by four guys leaning over him in exactly the same way Liz had been interrogated earlier. The DOJ were out for blood today. And the task force – his task force – was well and truly in their sights.

A voice spoke to his left, drawing his attention from Cooper for a moment.

"Don, how have you been?"

It was the Coroner, about to escort Connolly's body from the premises. Images flew through Ressler's mind. Of Audrey. Of blood spilled on a road. Of tears, helplessness and overwhelming grief.

"Joe," he addressed the Coroner, voice calmly giving nothing away as he reached out and shook the man's hand. "I've been okay." Amazing how easily he could lie about that, he briefly reflected. The gurney with Connolly's body was being brought closer. Shaking his head a little, he looked at the Coroner again. "This though…"

Joe spared him finishing his sentence, "Yeah, not a good deal at all."

He was unsure if Joe knew his own partner was the reason he was wheeling a fresh kill from a crime scene. But Wright caught his eye now before walking toward two FBI agents across the room from Cooper. He needed to be there too. "Duty calls." He nodded to Joe and took a step way.

"Don, you take care," replied the Coroner before turning and walking to his assistant.

As Ressler headed to Wright's side, he averted his eyes from Cooper. But suddenly he couldn't ignore the man and slowed, turning his head to acknowledge him. And immediately wished he hadn't. Cooper's eyes held him. Full of submission yet tinged with resolve regarding the DOJ surrounding him, but something else shone through.

Disappointment.

It radiated from his boss – ex boss – and for one moment Ressler could only hold the man's eyes before suddenly averting his gaze and uncertainly walking to Wright.

One of the agents held an evidence bag. Coming to stand beside them, keeping his back to Cooper now, he realized what the agent held in the bag. The murder weapon. Liz's weapon. Steadfastly listening to Wright now, he dragged his eyes away from the plastic evidence bag with its damning contents.

His phone rang, and relieved at the distraction he excused himself and stepped away from the group to answer it.

While his mind had been on no one else despite his best efforts to keep his mind off her, Liz's voice still took him by surprise.

"Where the hell are you?" he asked her in hushed tones, walking out of earshot and turning away, concerned his eyes would give away the fact he had her on the line.

It was clear she wasn't calling for her own welfare when she informed him Cooper had nothing to do with the murder. He already knew. He didn't need her to tell him that. His concern was her. Only her.

"You need to turn yourself in," he voiced, needing her to understand the complete mess she'd left in her wake. That the only way out of this was to come in where he could try and help her.

And still she talked of Cooper, ignoring his advice. Phone pressed to his ear as he listened to the desperation in her tone, the room behind him faded as he clung to her voice.

"You HAVE to come in," he told her, as a desperate edge crept into his voice, knowing she wasn't listening.

_Damn, it Liz, please!_

"I can't." The defeat in her voice almost caught his words in his throat.

"Damn it, Liz. Wake up!" he told her as his breath hitched, "You keep running, you will be hunted down."

Her voice was small. Childlike and lost, breaking with fear. "I know."

"By ME," he emphasized, needing her to listen. To hear him. To come in.

But she wasn't coming in. She was running.

He hadn't let anyone else in. No one else knew. Yet she would understand. Even in their current situation she was the one who would know. "Don't make me do this," he begged, playing his last card to her.

 _Please!_  He'd never begged her. But he did now.

"Please, Liz! Tell me where you are-" he suddenly swallowed, knowing he was losing her. "Tell me, and I can-"

The line went dead. She was gone. She wasn't going to tell him where she was.

Searching the air in front of him, unfocused, he could see her walking away in his mind's eye. Somewhere close, yet on her way to Reddington to get her out. And she would disappear just like Reddington had.

She had become Raymond Reddington. And he had contributed to it by not arresting her. By not doing his job.

"Agent Ressler!" Wright's voice jarred him back into the room around him. Slipping his phone into his pocket he turned and walked back toward her, noticing that Cooper was gone. Avoiding her direct gaze he looked around the room trying to focus on anything other than Liz's desperate voice.

_You will be hunted down._

_By me._

"Ma'am," he acknowledged her and went and stood beside her, hands on hips as she addressed him. He was the Acting Director of the task force charged with finding the fugitive Elizabeth Keen.

_Liz! Don't make me do this!_

Wright informed him they had several eye witness reports to process. They were spotty, the reception center staff having run as soon as a gun had been produced. Agents were talking with the staff and their reports would be on his desk soon.

He nodded to her, "Yes, ma'am."

It was time to go, and as he strode out with Reven Wright he saw the dark red stain on the thick carpet. Tom Connolly's blood. Spilled by Liz. And mustering every ounce of resolve inside him, he sidestepped the blood and walked with Wright to the waiting vehicle. He needed to head back to the Post Office and brief the team.

His team.

###

An hour later Ressler sat at his desk having finished reading the eye witness reports. All said pretty much the same thing. Cooper and Liz had faced off with Connolly, but not one witness had heard their conversation. Liz had suddenly stepped away from Cooper and held her weapon on the Attorney General before firing at him about one minute later.

Nothing in the reports gave him any insight into why. Not one damn word. It didn't make sense. Cooper would know, but he'd been locked up tighter than a drum and no one was getting in to see him. He flipped back and found one of the reports that specifically mentioned Cooper. Scanning his finger down the page, he found the witness statement.  _'The black man was talking to the woman with the gun. Kinda like he was talking her down.'_

Of course Cooper hadn't wanted her to do it. She'd go to jail for life.

_Damn it Liz. Why?!_

Tossing the eye witness report on top of the growing pile, he sighed and leaned back in his chair rubbing his tired eyes. As he opened them, his attention strayed to the edge of his desk to where Liz usually sat when talking to him. As his eyes left the edge of the desk they fell to the top desk drawer. And as if under someone else's control, his hand pulled the drawer open where he almost expected to see a prescription bottle of Oxy in there. He hadn't thought about pain pills since he'd been at the Kenyon compound.

And he wasn't going to think about them now. Slamming the drawer shut, he leaned forward, hissing through his teeth. Taking the eye witness statement report back off the top of the file to keep his mind on the task at hand, he had just opened the file again when there was a knock at his closed door.

Whoever it was didn't wait for an invitation. As the door opened he swiveled in his chair to face his two colleagues. Aram came in behind the confident stride of Samar, quickly closing the door behind them. Her catlike grace found the edge of his desk and as she perched there Ressler resisted the insane urge to tell her that was Liz's spot.

"We have something to say," announced Samar, leaning forward a little as Aram stood beside her. Ressler turned slowly in his chair regarding both of them in front of him, raising his head a little to hear what they had to say. Though he could already guess.

"She is our friend too. We may not know why Liz killed Tom Connolly, but we believe," she motioned to Aram, "that she had a good reason to do so at the time."

Ressler already knew that. His eyes dropped from Samar for a moment. He just didn't know what that reason was. And at this point it was moot. She'd killed the AG. No jury in the country was going to listen to nonsense about a clandestine cover up driving her to do what she'd done.

Aram spoke up, bolstered by Samar having broken the ice. "We know she's going to need help to get her through this," he said to Ressler, glancing to Samar for support.

"From the inside," clarified Samar looking directly at Ressler.

Ressler knew where they were going with this, and let them continue, folding his arms in front of him.

"And we know that you are in the most unenviable position of being in charge of having to hunt her down," Samar continued, pausing to allow him to say something. He didn't. What was there to say? He'd walked through the war room and pinned Liz's photo on the board. That had said it all. His partner was now his target.

Samar continued, leaning down conspiratorially. "And while we are hunting her, we will be right there with you helping clear her name, finding out what the hell happened and get her back here where she belongs."

Aram was nodding at her words. "They won't get away with what they've done, Agent Ressler. We're going to bring Liz home."

And now Ressler looked between the two of them, tilting his head a little. And finally spoke. "She killed a man in cold blood. And not just any man. The Attorney General of the United States." He looked briefly away, recalling saying that to Liz on the phone.

Aram faltered, looking down at Ressler's words.

Ressler continued, unfolding his arms and rose to his feet to face them. "My job is to find her. Arrest her and bring her in to face charges."

Looking to Samar, Aram nodded in defeat, "Well, we just…"

Ressler was regarding the two of the before him. Samar faced him with a hint of a smile as Aram looked at her, as if waiting for his next cue. Unbidden, a small defiant smile rose on Ressler's lips, surprising him somewhat as he looked from one to the other. "But I'm damn well going to do what I can to clear her name in the process. She deserves that. And as the leader of this task force that's as much my mission as bringing her in."

Aram's face lit up with a soft grin, as Samar patted Ressler's arm. "That's the spirit." Smiling, she eased off the desk as Aram headed for the door, their little meeting complete. As Ressler stood at his desk, Samar turned back to him as Aram reached for the door handle.

"And Ressler?"

He looked at her silently.

"We would have let her go too." A slow smile grew on her features as Aram, nodded behind her, confirming what she'd said as they slipped out of his office before he had a chance to reply.

###

It was much later and Ressler was still at his desk. The office was deserted, but still he didn't want to go home. Jacket on the back of his chair, shirt sleeves still rolled up he just sat, leaning back in his chair. Trying to make sense of the past day was impossible. It didn't mean he was going to stop trying though. And inevitably his eyes returned again and again to Liz's desk. And every time his eyes landed on her chair, he could see her 'birthday smile' as it had lit up her face, beauty radiating from every pore of her being. She was beautiful.

So unlike her mugshot up on the board.

Sitting alone, the memories of their dinner surrounded him as he rose from his chair and went around to her desk. Opening the top drawer slowly, his breath caught in his throat. The empty bottle of wine was still there. And the memory of her holding it as she'd talked of Sam came flooding back, of her almost cradling the bottle as she'd talked.

Slowly picking up the bottle he held it a moment hearing Liz's voice in his mind.  _'Red told me to share this…with someone special.'_ His eyes closed momentarily at that.

Their conversation that night filled his thoughts as he again looked at the empty bottle. She'd thought she'd have something to show for her life by the time she was in her thirties, yet now she was gone.  _'I thought I'd have a loving relationship with someone, maybe we would be raising a family together.'_

As he opened the drawer to return the bottle, he stopped halfway, frozen to the spot.  _Oh my God..._  Returning the bottle to the drawer, he moved to his chair and grabbed his jacket, opened the drawer and retrieved his car keys. As the Acting Director he was offered a driver. That would take some getting used to. Until then, he was quite capable of driving himself around.

Walking alone into the war room, he was unable to stop himself approaching the board. He stared quietly at the picture of Tom Connolly's body, Senator Hawkins, the demolished OREA building and some of the slain agents. The name Masha Rostova written on a piece of paper. And in the center of the board the place he'd stuck Liz's photo. He dropped his eyes.

_Liz…_

Turning his back on the board, he walked to the elevator before heading up to the parking garage. The guards at the door bade goodnight to him as he exited. Pulling out of the garage he turned onto the road, glad that there was very little traffic at this late hour. Concentrating on the drive and not allowing himself to dip into too many thoughts again, he stayed on course.

The street lights didn't work so well in this section of town, but no matter. He knew the way. And pulling into a parking lot a few minutes later he cut the engine as he sat parked outside of a run-down hotel room. Fishing through his pocket he found the key he was looking for and exiting the vehicle he walked to the door. Unlocking it, he slipped inside.

The room was dark, lit only by a soft night light filtering through from the bedroom. Walking in that direction he stood in the doorway and looked at the queen sized bed. Memories flooded over him again. Her desperate, heart wrenching sobs that he'd tried to soothe. Of lying beside her in the dark room, comforting her.

 _Liz…_  His best friend.

_Don't make me do this…_

A sound came from the room, dragging him from his thoughts and as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw what he'd come for.

"Hey, little dude."

Hudson's bright eyes shone from the corner of the room in the dim light, and as the dog stood up and shook himself, he then trotted contentedly to Ressler as he stood in the doorway. Crouching down, he met the little dog halfway as Hudson stood on hind legs and wagged his tail.

"Yeah…I know. Your mom-" he swallowed hard as he ran his hands through the dog's scruffy coat, "your mom has gone away for a bit." He paused, glancing away toward the bed, before returning his eyes to the dog. "So how about you come stay with your uncle Ressler, huh?" Hudson had no idea what Ressler had said, but wagged his tail even harder at the sound of his voice.

"Because I don't know when-" he stopped again, his voice faltering, "or if... your mom will be back. She's-"

His voice hitched as he gulped in a breath of air, blinking hard. "She's-"

And sliding down the door frame behind him for support he found himself sitting on the floor. Hudson scrambled into his lap in the semi dark, and as Ressler held him tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto the animal.

_She's gone!_

He'd held it together all day. But now alone in the dark with this small animal, the façade crumbled and he let go. Clutching the dog to him, feeling the soft fur in his fingers, he spoke out loud with a voice tight with tears.

"I have to hunt you, Liz. Just like I hunted Reddington. Don't...please don't make me do this." His strangled voice filled the empty room as Hudson leaned against him, soft and warm. And as he clutched the dog to him, finding some measure of comfort in the animal, he finally knew why this hunt was so much harder for him.

Because she wasn't only his partner and his best friend.

He was in love with her.

THE END

* * *

_Authors Note: So now we come to the end of Season 2 and begin the long Summer hiatus. In my chapters, I chose to make them closer than what we're seeing on our screens, yet never cross the boundary of 'just partners'. I keep them canon, because it feels right to me. Yet over the course of two seasons my chapters changed. No longer just sitting and chatting in their office or having coffee, I introduced new story arcs, and took more license with them. Yet I love these characters so much that I respect who they are and tried not to take them too far off track. And I hope that in the preceding chapters I have stayed true to that. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, private messaged, emailed, twittered, tumblred and chatted with me about our beloved show and my Conversations 2 stories. It means a lot :-)_

_aussieokie_


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